Moments in Time
by Innocenzo
Summary: There are moments in time where the lights that guides us fades away and we are left in the darkness. But in those darkest moments are when we truly discover ourselves; because fate always finds a way to take us to the place where we really belong. Follow Edmund and Hermione, two very imperfect people, on their journey to finding love and finding themselves.
1. Chapter 1

**Moments in Time**

 **Disclaimer:** Copyright J.K. Rowling & C.S. Lewis

* * *

 **Prologue**

 **I:** Royal Hand of Fate

or

"When life screws you over."

* * *

A secret's worth depends on the people from whom it must be kept.

It was a phrase that her mother often liked to repeat when they were forced to tell the Hamiltons (their neighbours) that Hermione attended a boarding school for the gifted, or when they told Grandma Aggie that Hermione had undergone major dental cosmetic surgery when she appeared one summer without her two large front teeth.

Hermione never truly understood the meaning of the phrase. She supposed she had been somewhat blessed that the main reason behind the secrets and lies had been due to the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. She had been, at one point, a horrific liar. Telling fibs had never been a convincing skill of hers and her parents could always see through her stories.

The truth was much more powerful than lies.

That was a phrase that her father often liked to repeat. It was a philosophy she had followed all her life … until Hogwarts.

Hogwarts had changed her. Far lot more than she would ever realize or would like to admit. Over the years, the little white lies they told to avoid detention and unwanted attention had become something of the norm for the 'Golden Trio'. She didn't know when she moved away from being a wide-eyed and stuttering innocent to being able to pass a lie through her lips as easy as spreading butter on warm toast. She was slightly ashamed to admit that one of her proudest moments had been the way she lured Professor Umbridge into the woods to save Harry from the Cruciatus - and perhaps, later on in her life, she would count holding her tongue whilst under the Cruciatus Curse, her strongest and bravest moment.

But through it all, Ron Weasley and Harry Potter had been right beside her; they had only ever separated by circumstance and never (well, not her anyway) by choice. Come what may, Hermione Granger had only ever seen a future with her best friends, for one without them was bleak.

Amidst the war there had always been that small ray of hope – that the 'Golden Trio' would either live together or die together. She would never have thought that everything she knew would be stripped away from her and she would be tossed into another world by herself.

She could never have imagined that she would one day be by herself.

This time, Hermione Granger would lie about her gift, not because of an existing Statute, but because her life depended on it.

* * *

"Harry Potter is dead!" Voldemort announced with great glee.

The deformed maniac's red eyes glowed with triumph. This was the moment he had been waiting seventeen years for; ever since he walked into the Potter's home in Godric's Hollow and cast the killing curse on an unassuming child and failed. He had finally accomplished his goal. Harry Potter was dead. The Boy-Who-Lived was no more.

Hermione's heart stuttered, failing to remember how to beat as coldness settled in her, making her feel numb to the core.

Harry Potter, the dark-haired boy who had become her first ever friend, and soon her best friend, the boy who she had shared tears and laughter with, all the good times and the bad, all the adventures and nightmares, was _gone_. She didn't know what to feel ... what could she feel? This type of pain was so new, she was too young to know real loss ... she was only eighteen; and Harry, seventeen! Initial denial crept in - a pure emotion of disbelief. He couldn't be gone! They had joked that for his eighteenth, despite the looming war, they would go to a muggle pub where Harry would finally be legally of age to buy a drink. _He couldn't be gone!_ He just _couldn't ..._ not after all that they'd accomplished. How far they'd come ... he just _couldn't_ be gone now. They had been so close ... the victory had been in their grasp ... and it had been snatched. It was cruel. It was not fair! ... It just was not _fair_.

She registered Ron grabbing her hand, squeezing it tightly as he grasped for the last semblance of sanity holding him to this devastating reality. But she couldn't look at him. If she did, it would just cement the fact that Harry really was gone. That the Golden Trio were now just ... a _duo_.

The actions that then followed on the battlefield were just a haze in Hermione's memory. Somewhere in the background, Neville had stepped forward in response to Voldemort's request for new members in his rank. Her heart would have broken, had it not already been in pieces. The foolish Gryffindor had then pulled out the sword from the hat; not ready to give up the fight. And just like that, once again, there was a flurry of spells flying through the air as the battle recommenced.

It was their last fight for freedom.

Ron let go of her hand, throwing himself back into the battle, his raw grief and fury overtaking his rationality.

Hermione was smart, the brightest witch of her age, and she _knew_ that the fight was already over. She remained stationary watching as a flash of green shot through the crowd and Neville Longbottom was suddenly no more.

That was another body, now piling on the ground. Red pools of liquid, black sea of robes. Bodies, so many, and everywhere ... littered around like pieces of garbage.

Her ears became mute as the crowd around her battled. Her brilliant brain was no longer operating.

So, as Bellatrix stood in front of her, spitting the word, " _Mudblood_ " in her direction, she did not respond, she _could not_ respond. Her arms remained by her side, and fear was nonexistent. Ron screamed her name, but the fight was lost. She knew that. There was no hope.

Excruciating pain filled her as the wild-haired witch performed the Cruciatus Curse on her limp form. Bellatrix leered at her with a mocking smile.

Hermione turned her head, through her pain, and watched as Ron fell, the unforgivable green-lit curse finally catching him.

That was the last thing she saw before her own world turned black.

* * *

"What are you doing in here, _get out_!" A soft female voice scolded.

"Peter told me that you'd found a wounded stray. I didn't believe that you'd be foolish enough to bring one home." A deeper voice replied and they didn't sound very happy. "You _know_ how clever those rogues are, Aslan, have you learnt nothing from us?"

"I found her in the woods, _injured_! I couldn't just leave her there!" The younger, feminine voice said; there was fierce protectiveness evident in her tone.

"When we said that you can learn to become a healer, we didn't mean that you could literally bring your practice patients home!" The deeper voice became louder; he was irritated.

"Oh for Aslan's sake! She was unconscious! I swear to you that the minute she wakes, I will personally escort her back to her family."

Hermione opened her eyes and promptly winced as bright light hit her vision, her eyes would not focus, no matter how hard she blinked. It took her a moment to gather her bearings before she turned towards the two figures in the room who were causing quite a commotion. Initially, she thought she was looking at Harry and Ginny, for all she could see was a blur of black and red hair, but as her vision cleared, she realised it wasn't. Panic grabbed her.

The male, whose deep voice had broken into her abstraction, was tall, dark and intimidatingly brawny. He had the posture of one know knew hand-on-hand combat, a fighter. The female beside him was quite petite but her fiery red hair and equally fierce face told her that she should not be underestimated on the battlefield.

Immediately, Hermione scoped out her escape routes, there was a door just behind the couple and a window to her left, through which the room was illuminated. She couldn't see the ground outside from where she laid, only the clear blue sky - which meant that she could not be on the ground floor. There were no visible signs of electricity, she considered, as she spotted several well-used lanterns and wax candles dotted around the room's surfaces, there was one right next to her beside. No plugs, no lights, and the furniture looked outdated ... definitely not a muggle house ... it must be a wizarding home.

She wondered who they were. She definitely did not remember them from the Battle at the Ministry of Magic nor at the Malfoy Mansion where she had been help kidnapped.

She scanned their frames for their wands, were they wearing holsters? She idly wondered how to disarm them without her own wand. They must have confiscated it when they captured her. But their clothes ... the Wizarding World did have a weird _,_ outdated sense of fashion ... but this was ridiculous. The girl was in a dress, one that had a corset and puffed skirt and the man (or perhaps boy, it was hard to tell), he was wearing tan trousers, but they looked puffy around his thighs and a tunic, not a shirt. She almost felt like she had time travelled to the Victorian Era.

Hermione shrugged off the weight on her legs and she realised that she hadn't been tied down, but weighed down by an extremely thick, hand-knit quilt. Why was she on a bed? Hermione stared down at her bandaged arm with confusion. Why had they tended to her wounds? _Why_ was she in a dress?

She turned her attention back to them and noticed the male had now turned his attention towards her and was staring intently.

"What, Ed? Have nothing to say?" the female taunted, having not yet noticed her patient.

But, with quick astuteness, she followed the male's line of sight before her face morphed with realisation.

"Oh goodness! You're awake," she said with a gasp as she hurried over. "How are you feeling?" She asked, her hand covering Hermione's.

Hermione flinched away from the contact. Instinct told her that they weren't a threat, but battle hardened, Hermione chose to play it safe.

"I ... where am I?" Hermione questioned, trying to sound demanding and sure of herself, but it failed - her voice was as weak as her mind.

She winced as she tried to pull herself up on the bed. The redhead at once started fussing over her, helping her sit up and carefully placing a pillow behind her back so that she was comfortable. Stubborn as she was, Hermione purposefully sat ramrod straight on the bed, refusing to relax against the pillow.

"Well, you're in Narnia of course," the girl replied, her brows knitted together.

She looked confused by the question … as was Hermione by the answer.

"Narnia? Where's that?" Hermione repeated, with a perplexed expression.

"Dear Aslan, have you no recollection of your memory?" The redhead questioned further, peering right into Hermione's eyes.

Hermione tilted her head backwards, uncomfortably looking away from the piercing green eyes that unnervingly reminded her of her bespectacled best friend.

She visibly blanched as memories of the war came rushing back, of Voldemort's exuberance, Harry, Neville, Ron ... Bellatrix standing over her...

" _No_ , I just, -" her voice broke, "I don't understand how I came here."

She avoided their gaze, scared that if she looked into her kind eyes a second longer, she would break down. Her gaze settled on her bandaged arm instead. She stared at it with intense hatred. It was a permanent reminder of her heritage. It was a reminder of who she was and where she belonged in the Wizarding World.

The girl followed her sight and suddenly looked at her with almost an apologetic expression, "You weren't…" she hesitated, "You weren't a part of the–the s-slave trade were you?"

Hermione's eyes clouded, tears of confusion and grief forming quite rapidly. The girl's accent was not British. It sounded … perhaps European but it was hard to tell; there was a thick stress in her voice. Wherever she currently was, there was no doubt that she was definitely far, far away from London.

"I'm ... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked," the girl apologised, mistaking the dampness of her eyes for something else.

She twiddled her thumbs; suddenly looking the most unsure Hermione had seen her since she'd woken up. The light sound of a door closing interrupted the sudden uncomfortable silence in the room. Hermione sniffed and looked towards the door through her tears, and noted that the man had left.

"Don't mind Edward, he gets terribly uncomfortable when women get emotional." The girl said with a fond roll of her eyes. "I'm Salliah by the way."

Hermione smiled at her weakly, judging no immediate danger, she replied, "I'm Hermione, Hermione Granger."

* * *

Bright, punishing morning sunlight woke Hermione from her slumber the next day.

Memory failed her as she tried to remember when she had lost consciousness the night before. Sally had stayed with her, filling the silence in the room with mindless chatter about Narnia until she had dozed off.

It all seemed like a dream.

She remembered dying. At least, she was pretty sure that she had been engulfed in a glow of green light. She wondered if she had performed one last bit of instinctual, accidental magic and apparated out of Hogwarts. But, **_Hogwarts, A History_** clearly stated that you could not apparate in and out of Hogwarts. It had a millennia's worth of wards that prevented apparation. Hermione could not think clearly, her mind was still rather hazy; but if this was the afterlife, it certainly was not what she had been expecting.

Her sore muscles screamed with discomfort as she stepped out of bed. Her feet felt like lead, having been bed-ridden for longer than forty-eight hours. An uncomfortable numbness settled in her legs as she felt as though she was dragging a tonne of bricks with every step she took. She had been found in the woods - completely unconscious and unarmed. Her swollen ankle was bandaged; she had somehow managed to twist it - of which, she also had no memory of. Through the beige dressing, Hermione could see ugly mottling of a blue-black bruise forming.

She winced, her ankle protested with each footstep as she daringly reached for the basin of clean water at the opposite side of the room. She gently sprayed her face with water and wiped away the dried salt patches on her cheeks - the residue of her tears from the night before. Sally had kindly plaited her hair last night and looking in the mirror, Hermione was relieved to see that it had stayed in form. Not much could be said, though, for the dark bruises under her glassy eyes; reminding her that not too long ago, she had given up the fight for her life. Whether she was still alive or on the next adventure after life, was to be discovered (as soon as she found her wand, she would try to apparate), but there was no hiding from the current truth: Hermione Granger had, for the first time in her life, given up on something. And if that didn't speak volumes of her current fragile state of mind, nothing else would.

The clatter of pots and pans, conversation and laughter snapped her out of her self-pity. Not knowing whether she would be welcome, but refusing to stay a moment longer in the small bedroom, she stepped outside.

Allowing the noise to be her guide, Hermione found herself looking into a room that reminded her so much of the kitchen at The Burrow. Its participants were heart wrenchingly resonant of the Weasley siblings: six men and one girl. Thankfully, only Sally was the redhead in the family; else, the connotation would have been painfully unbearable. The conversation came to an abrupt pause, as her presence was made known, but only for a moment. In a blink of an eye, Sally was in front of her, pulling her further into the room.

"Hermione! I'm so glad you came down, I was just about to bring you breakfast," she said with joy as she pulled Hermione down onto a spare seat beside her.

A plate of food appeared in front of her with cutlery on the side.

"You needn't have. I was just going to inform you that I will be on my way now," Hermione replied, not touching the appetising looking plate of food in front of her.

How long had it been since she'd had a whole meal such as this? Probably, something Kreacher cooked up for them back at Grimauld Place before they had been forced to flee. After living on freshly harvested mushrooms and dry, tinned food, Hermione's mouth watered at the sight of toasted bread, bacon and eggs. It was funny, how the simple things in life, most often taken for granted, seemed like a luxury - especially after the trials she had faced the past year.

Hermione was mindful of the unblinking stares she was receiving from the moment she'd stepped into the kitchen. But she wasn't ready to answer any questions, or offer any explanations.

"But…where will you go? You said so yourself that you don't know Narnia," Sally spoke softly, as not to startle Hermione.

"I'm sure I can find my way. I don't want to impose any longer than I already have," Hermione replied.

She looked up from her plate, her eyes falling on man, Edward, who had been present in the room last night. He blushed and looked away with embarrassment; whether for his words last night or being caught staring now, Hermione wasn't sure.

"Don't be ridiculous Hermione, Narnia's not as safe as it is made out to be. There are rogue, mutinous Telmarines and wild beasts still about. It's not a place for a woman to travel alone … and the motels are anything but hospitable!" Sally shuddered, "Tell her, Peter!" She exclaimed to her brother.

The name rang familiar and Hermione turned to look at the tall, dark-haired man at the head of the table. He was by no doubt the eldest. His weathered face was foiled with wrinkles caused by worry, stress and laughter. The lines around his eyes and mouth crinkled upwards, as though he was a man who often smiled with his eyes and laughed freely. His dark hair sat on his shoulders, the long strands were tucked behind his left ear where a fang-like silver earring hung; it was almost eerily reminiscent of Bill Weasley.

With a sigh, Peter conceded to his sister's point, "Sally is right. Narnia is not a place for a woman to travel alone; especially for one like you." Hermione frowned at his choice of words. "There are plenty of thugs and hooligans who will try to take advantage of your situation. I have no qualms with you residing with us."

As Peter spoke, he gave each and every one of his brothers a look that stated that he was not to be argued with. Unsurprisingly, no one did. The man had an irrefutable air of authority around him.

"But it's too much trouble. You don't know anything about me and I can't just stay here for free. Perhaps I can be a maid, do the chores around the house," Hermione suggested, though grimaced at the idea internally.

 _'Just for a while,'_ she thought to herself, ' _until I find a way to apparate, or until I get news of what's happening in London. I should probably find out whether there are flights available from here._ '

She was taken back by the looks of offence she received in return to her suggestion.

"We are in no need of a maid, Miss." Hermione opened her mouth to argue, " _but_ if you really seek work and remuneration of your own; I will ask around town to see if there are any vocations available."

Under Peter's stern advice, Hermione could only mutter a word of thanks.

"It was pleasant meeting you Hermione, if you'll excuse me, I must be off to work now." Peter nodded at her, wiping his mouth with a napkin before standing up and walking out.

His brothers followed suit, quickly introducing themselves before hurrying out. It was all too quick for her to remember their names, she believed she heard an Oliver and a Henry thrown in there somewhere - but she wasn't too sure.

It was then that Hermione noticed the swords hanging by their waists. She quickly concluded that they must be in the military, but their choice of weapon was so medieval. Exactly what type of country was Narnia?

"Eat up now, you'll need your strength," the healer-in-training reprimanded her with a pleased grin on her face.

With a weak smile of her own, Hermione dug in. She savored the taste of good, home-cooked food.

She, by all accounts, should be dead. But here she was, sitting in some family's kitchen, eating breakfast, being ... _alive_.

Fate worked in mysterious ways.

.

.

.

* * *

 **Edited: 08/04/17 ... just to clarify, the Chronicles of Narnia don't exist in the Earth Hermione came from. So Hermione has no idea what/where Narnia is.**

 **A.N/** I am absolutely obsessed with the Edmund/Hermione pairing! I've read _Two World's Collide by WickedlyAwesomeMe_ numerous times and I'm currently hooked on _Fate's Instruments by fourthfireshadow_! So, with that in mind, I do apologise if my story is similar to any of theirs, obviously this trope is overdone but I'm trying to make mine as original as possible.

Let me know what you think so far!

Reviews are like oxygen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Moments in Time**

 **Disclaimer:** Copyright J.K. Rowling & C.S. Lewis

* * *

 **II:** An Encounter of a Sort

or

"Do you ever wish you had a second chance to meet someone again for the first time?"

* * *

It was absolute chaos in the Kader household. The house, originally a pottery barn, was full of life. The positive energy was stifling and warred with the whirlwind of sadness Hermione felt. She felt terribly ungrateful for wishing that she was with the Weasleys instead of this motley bunch. Every time a laugh unwittingly spilled past her lips or her eyes crinkled with amusement, guilt bloomed in the pit of her stomach abruptly cutting off her joy. If the Kader's had noticed her distant manner, they had been too polite to bring it up.

The happiness had been so suffocating that Hermione requested a trip out to the market that she had heard about. Ever the gentlemen, all the Kader men had offered to accompany her, much to Sally's amusement. In the end, they settled for Derrick, the third eldest, to escort her. She hadn't put up much of a protest. By that point she was almost desperate to get away. She knew it was appalling of her to think so selfishly when these people had shown her nothing but kindness.

She was surprised, pleasantly or unpleasantly, she couldn't say, but stunned nonetheless when they walked through a town where magical creatures cohabited peacefully with muggles.

"What's wrong?" Derrick asked her, noticing her shift in composure.

"That - that's a talking mouse!" She exclaimed.

Derrick followed her gaze.

"Hello, Sir Reepicheep," he called out.

"Good day Soldier," the mouse, wearing a hat with a red feather billowing in the wind and a tiny little sword (that could not have been longer than a needle) around it's waist, bowed - _bowed -_ before it scampered away.

Hermione felt a bit lightheaded. Goblins, centaurs, half-giants and hippogriffs she could handle; but talking mice was a bit too much. She briefly wondered if these animals were an advanced evolution like Aragog had been. Hadn't Harry and Ron mentioned Hagrid's talking acromentula back in their second year? The memory was a bit hazy in her mind.

You don't have any problems with the Old Narnians, do you?" Derrick asked her, and his tone cautionary as he noted her obvious discomfort.

"N-no," she stammered, "I'm just surprised."

She watched as a small goblin-like creature huffily moved through the crows, clearly having a rough morning. She winced as the dwarf appeared to trip over thin air, the small bout of misfortune adding to the agitation the creature was already feeling.

"What are you staring at girl? Never seen a dwarf before?" One of the dwarfs on the street sneered as he caught her gaze.

Hermione flushed and turned away.

"Are there many ... magical creatures in Narnia?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't ever call them creatures to their faces. They'll take great offense to it," Derrick hurriedly informed, as he looked around them to make sure that no one had overheard.

"Oh," Hermione said, feeling abashed.

"They prefer to be known as the Old Narnians," Derrick continued as they resumed their slow walk into the market.

"How so?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Well, long before the Telmarines invaded the land, Narnia belonged completely to -" Derrick once again looked around to check that no one was listening "- _the magical beings_ ," he whispered dramatically. "The only humans who lived on the land were the Kings and Queens of Old."

"And how long ago was this invasion?" Hermione asked intelligently, observing the multitude of buildings erected on the once virgin land.

Derrick sent her an appraising look, "about a thousand years ago."

Hermione absorbed the information that was being supplied. She gasped and then smiled as a school of children, magical and muggle alike ran past them, captivated in their little game of tag.

"Well, it can't have been too much of an invasion if everyone is living so peacefully together," Hermione noted, her hand traveling over one of the necklaces displayed on a table.

Derrick looked at her with bewilderment at first and then shook his head as though dispelling a thought.

"The Old Narnians only recently claimed back their rights to the land they owned, the war was quite the talk of all the lands, news traveled as far as The Seven Isles! What with the return of the Kings and Queens of Old was nothing short of a miracle. I'm must say I'm surprised you didn't know," he commented with a frown.

Hermione's eyes flashed, "w-well-" she stammered, "where I was, news, erm, wasn't easily available..." she commented diplomatically. There, it was neither a lie nor a stretch of the truth.

"I apologize," Derrick winced.

Derrick, like his brothers, had the same brown hair and hazel eyes that appeared to be a dominating genetic trait. He also had an affable personality, he, like his family, manifested an air of genuineness that made Hermione feel like a heel for taking advantage of their generosity and returning it with deceit. With a sharp clench of her stomach, Hermione turned away, walking over to the table that sold the most exquisite looking silk. Her hand ran over the softest material she had ever touched, with a soft smile, she let the green material slip through her fingers. Then, suddenly, her mind clicked onto something, she swiveled on her feet and pointed a finger at Derrick with accusation in her eyes.

"Wait, you said that the Kings and Queens of Old returned! How is that possible? They would have to be 1000 years old!" She exclaimed.

* * *

The busy days is Narnia quickly turned over into restless nights and soon it turned into two-and-a-half weeks since Hermione arrived in Narnia. Though she was no stranger to a magical land - having spent the better part of her pubescence in a magical castle, introduced to a whole magical community of all things. Narnia, however, was not what she had expected.

Regardless of what the pureblood population had to say of her; despite her _muddy_ blood, Hermione was through and through a witch.

As such, magic flowed in her veins.

She was elementally and genetically formed of magic.

So, it had surprised her, when her skin tingled as though it was electrically charged as a result of a reaction to the pungent magic that filled the air of Narnia. It was as though she was breathing in magic, like she and the land were both the same sides of a magnet and her blood sung harmoniously. Her magical core burst with newfound strength like never before.

But she had no outlet for it.

It was frustrating, to have a building reserve of energy and power and not being able to release it. She felt like a coil, being wound up tighter and tighter with every breath she took and she knew that if she didn't solve her current situation soon, then there may be casualties as a direct cause of a bout of accidental magic breaking loose from its tight confines.

She had lost her wand, and her hand quivered at the thought of not being able to find it again. She decided - after giving it microscopic thought - that she would take Sally in search for it.

Salliah Kader was a beautiful young girl of seventeen. Her tresses of silky auburn hair were fit neatly into a stunning chignon. Hermione had watched with awe as the girl braided her hair with practiced speed and precision that morning whereas she had opted for a simple ponytail. Sally's deep-set emerald eyes gazed at you like a puppy dog, no doubt it was a look that she often took advantage of - being the youngest in a family of males. The girl had a pixie-like nose that dropped daintily down from its peak and her Cupid's bow red lips surrounded her small mouth with perfect alabaster teeth - Hermione's parents would have been proud of a set of teeth such as those. She even dimpled under her high cheekbones as she smiled. She stood an inch shorter to Hermione's 5'6" frame and her voluptuous figure that poured into a nice hourglass made Hermione envious as she compared it to her nonexistent hips. Needless to say, Sally oozed class and beauty, and Hermione felt so plain in comparison - although, this was something that Hermione was long used to. She had been far from the most alluring at Hogwarts.

"Are you sure that this is a good idea?" Sally called out to her as she trudged through the fallen leaves and twigs on the moss-covered soil.

Narnia was breathtakingly beautiful and Hermione sensed that the magic was what kept it so stunning.

"I just feel like I had some belongings with me," replied Hermione, as she carefully hiked over a ditch. Her still-sore ankle throbbed as she landed on it awkwardly, she had forgotten how painstakingly long the muggle healing process was.

She didn't need to look at her companion to know that she was annoyed. Sally was adamantly convinced that she had not forgotten any small detail. Of course - Sally was not aware that Hermione was in search of a _magical wand_.

"You know, I think my brothers are besotted with you," the girl piped up, turning to look at Hermione with a playful smile on her face whilst she balanced atop a log.

"Watch your step!" Hermione warned with a frown, before quickly adding, "whatever do you mean?"

"Oh _Hermione_ , would you like us to bring some game to cook for dinner? Oh, _Hermione_ , don't worry about the housework, take a seat and rest that injury of yours. Oh, _Hermione_ , don't worry, I'll ask the castle to see if they have any work available," Sally sniggered, hand over her forehead as she embellished her brothers' acts over the past few days. "Mind you; their attitude is going to do a complete one-eighty when they realize that you went and got yourself a job as a barmaid."

Hermione flushed. Now that she thought about it, the Kader brothers had been _quite_ attentive with her, but she had chalked it off to the sort of attention she used to receive from Ron's brothers, nothing more than platonic. "I'm sure they're just trying to be nice."

Sally snorted disbelievingly.

"The day I see that is the day I see Aslan," she commented offhandedly.

"Aslan?" Hermione asked, perplexed.

"Good Golly! You really have been living under a rock!" Sally spoke without thinking and then grimaced immediately with regret.

Hermione had been on the receiving end of that infuriatingly, apologetic look from the Kader family quite often recently. At first, Hermione had been ignorant and, therefore, confused to their reaction to things that they said before realization belatedly hit her. She didn't know how long she would be able to keep the web of lies she'd unknowingly spun.

"Sorry," whispered Sally.

Hermione shrugged noncommittally, guilt burning a hole and forming a permanent home in her heart.

"This is it!" Sally cried with relief - whether it was to the change of subject or a halt to their half-hour-long trek, Hermione could not decipher.

"I told you that I left nothing behind," she added, as she swiveled around, looking over the empty soil. But Hermione was already on all fours, her eyes frantically scanning the soil, fumbling haphazardly through fallen twigs looking for that once special piece of wood.

"Hermione! Your dress is going to get muddy!" Sally exclaimed with dismay, her eyes grew wide with horror as the brown mud stains grew larger on Hermione's pastel dress. It had been one of her fondest old dresses. Despite growing up with six older brothers, unlike Ginny, Sally had not grown a tomboy. She was very much, a girly-girl.

"Is it something valuable?" Sally sighed with defeat laden in her voice, as she stood beside Hermione. She looked down at her own dress, wondering if it was worth the sacrifice.

Hermione nodded, blinking furiously as tears flooded her eyes. Panic hit her tenfold. Who knew if she had walked through Narnia before collapsing? She didn't even remember how she received a sprain to her ankle. What if she'd lost her wand along the way? What if her wand didn't even travel with her to Narnia? Had she left it back at Hogwarts?

Sally sighed pitifully at her, her hand briefly touching her shoulder, as she too now crouched down on the filthy mud.

"Come on then," the younger girl whispered, "tell me what I'm supposed to be searching for."

"A stick." She carefully left out the 'magical' part. Had Hermione not been so distressed, she would have laughed outright at the incredulous look on Sally's face. "… It was a gift. You'll know if you see it, it's not like any other," she added for good measure.

Brushing away her tears, Hermione fell into a silent search and seconds later, she, through her peripheral vision, saw Sally join her. A warmth feeling grew in her heart for the younger girl.

Hermione wasn't sure how long they'd been searching for her wand but by the time Sally exclaimed that she'd found something worth taking a look at; she was feeling the agonizing sting of pins-and-needles in her legs. She groaned as the blood rushed back to her dead feet, but she hobbled over to Sally as fast as she could to examine the crafted piece of wood in her hand.

"Is this it?" Sally asked her eyes shining with delight while she admired the delicate craftsmanship.

Hermione's eyes widened at the sight of her carefully packed beaded bag, but the wand …

Hermione squinted at the white wood and hesitantly reached for it. For a brief moment, she hoped that it was just the trick of the sunlight that cast a white glow to the wood, but she was wrong. Her heart sank as her hand closed over it, it wasn't her wand. She did not feel the usual hum of magic thrum through her as she held it, there was no connection. It was just an ordinary piece of stick - though a beautiful one at that.

"If I may be so bold, who gave this to you?" Sally asked her, obliviously.

Hermione did not have the heart to tell her that their search had all been for naught.

So, she lied.

"My parents." Was the strangled whisper that came out of her mouth.

"And are they…?" Sally trailed off, not sure how to finish her sentence.

Hermione's jaw trembled as the question hit home; she was well and truly alone. Without her wand, she couldn't apparate and it was far too dangerous to send an owl to Magical London. Who knew what was happening there.

"Well, my brothers will be pleased," Sally laughed awkwardly, attempting to alleviate Hermione's depression.

Hermione looked at her in astonishment, visibly offended.

"No!" Sally exclaimed, eyes wide with denial. "I mean … you're just easy to please! My brothers would have no trouble in wooing you with their pathetic attempts at being romantic."

Incredulous was not close to describing the disbelieving look on Hermione's face. Sally smiled, pleased with herself, as the brunette slowly dissolved into irrepressible laughter.

* * *

"What in the mane…?", was all that Peter could voice when Hermione and Sally walked through the door.

The man gawked as he took in the appearance of the girls. Immediately, a protective look formed on his face. That was something to admire in the dark-haired man; he had a definitive need to protect his siblings.

Peter, like his brothers, was a lean but brawny young man. He too had perfect teeth, and when he smiled, Hermione found herself a little bit breathless (though she would never admit it out loud). Peter had crows'-feet that framed the corners of his hazel eyes - that peered at you through thick lashes - as he had a tendency to smile through his eyes. Peter also fondly sported a beard; something Hermione came to realize was his pride and joy.

"Were you attacked?" he asked stepping closer to them, pulling Sally aside to see if she was injured in any form.

Sally scoffed.

"Of course not!" She argued, tugging her arm away from her brother; there was a rebellious streak in her. Something, Hermione imagined, that had formed after years of being the youngest sibling in a house full of men. "We've just been in the woods." Hermione knew that particular sentence had been on purpose as Peter's stormy expression formed a smirk on Sally's face. Hermione clutched onto her bag just a little bit tighter.

"What were you doing in the woods at this time of hour?" Oliver (the second oldest) questioned, as he walked into the room with a bowl of treats in his hand.

His dangerously sharp looking sword hung lazily by his side. He was by no means any less attractive than Peter; his hair was unkempt and fell over his hazel eyes, attracting the viewer to his chiseled features. In fact, none of Sally's brothers were repelling. Suddenly reminded of their earlier conversation, Hermione reddened when Oliver winked at her. She didn't, however, suppress an eye-roll in response and smiled when the older man grinned at her.

"It was my fault." Hermione stepped in, focusing back to the conversation on hand where voices had grown loud. The bickering siblings looked in her direction. "I wanted to go back to where Sally found me to see if any of my belongings had been left nearby," she explained glibly.

Silence ensued. No one knew what the say in response to that. Oliver coughed uncomfortably in the background.

"And did you?" Peter asked the frostiness in his voice seeping away as he regarded her with a sympathetic expression. The hard glint in his eyes softened.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Sally beat her to it, "Yes of course we did. We're not incompetent." Peter hardened his gaze again.

"Now if you'll excuse us, Hermione and I are going to change out of these soiled garments. She does, after all, start her shift at The Greyhound Inn tonight." The smirk on Sally's face was vicious.

Hermione glowered at the girl, whilst still allowing herself to be pulled away from Peter and Oliver as they exclaimed unhappily in the background.

"That was unnecessary," Hermione commented as they closed their room door.

Sally shrugged her shoulders unapologetically. "The look on their faces was worth it."

Hermione attempted to keep the frown on her face deep-set, but she couldn't help the twitch of her lips as the remembered the dumbfounded look that Peter and Oliver had sported.

"Now, let's get you something to wear," Sally announced as she skipped through the curtain of beads that served as the door to her wardrobe. "Nothing too low cut, wouldn't want to give the wrong idea to the drunkards; but you don't want anything too conservative either, you won't get any tips!"

"I would be most comfortable in a pair of trousers and a blouse if I was being honest with you." Hermione disclosed, as she carefully rearranged her soiled dress so she could sit down on the ottoman by the dressing table.

There was a pause in the conversation as Sally walked back out looking appalled.

"You want to dress like a man?" she asked.

"Don't be so archaic. A woman can dress however she wishes, no man should ever have a say in what she wears." Hermione spoke with a fierce expression.

Sally looked mildly impressed with Hermione, a newfound respect forming in her eyes. However, when she leered at Hermione with a frightening, feral grin; Hermione knew that she had awoken a monster.

"There's hope for you yet."

* * *

If anyone had said that there was hope for him at this current moment in time, Edmund Pevensie would have slugged them ... and then run his sword through them for good measure.

The black-haired Just King winced as he shrank away from another prick from a pin needle.

"Edmund Pevensie, for heaven's sake! Stop moving!" His older sister, Susan, reprimanded from the divan she was currently reclining on. Susan's ladies-in-waiting giggled at the youngest king.

Prudence, their Royal Housekeeper, stared at Edmund with disapproval when he sniffed with distaste.

Susan was unconvincingly pretending to read her notes on materials under the disguise of overseeing the fitting while in actual fact; she was there to eye up Caspian. Who was she trying to fool, _really_?

Edmund growled under his breath and refrained from rolling his eyes as the seamstress apologized for stabbing him, yet _again_. Honestly, this service was appalling in comparison to the mice dressmakers who Edmund was much more comfortable with. Surely piercing several hundred holes into your monarch's body is counted as treason? Perhaps he could suggest it at the next council meeting.

"Susan, is there really a need for yet _another_ ball?" Peter complained; his arms positioned out by his sides for sleeve and shoulder measurements.

Edmund swore that the young seamstress attending to his brother was leisurely taking her time and taking this opportunity to grope him, under the pretext of taking 'accurate' measurements. Though, he didn't think that his brother minded the attention all that much.

Peter, for once, was not supporting Susan's ludicrous whims of throwing a ball every other eve. Or perhaps, now that Caspian was about to fill the shoes of being at Susan's beck-and-call, Peter no longer felt that it was his job to please Susan's every fancy. Edmund suspected that it was the latter as he took in Caspian's unflinching face as a needle stuck to his bicep. Edmund looked back at Peter, who was starting to become as disgruntled.

"This isn't just any ball Peter!" Edmund cast a betrayed look as Lucy piped up from the corner - and here he'd been under the impression that she hated balls as much as her brothers! "It's Susan's and Caspian's Engagement Ball! No ball has been as special as this!" The youngest giggled, twirling happily on the spot.

Edmund regarded her with open disgust at her tittering.

Luckily, or perhaps, unfortunately, a knock on the door saved Lucy from receiving the scathing choice words that were on the tip of his tongue.

" _Traitor_." He hissed at her as she floated past.

The brat stuck her tongue out at him, the nerve!

Great Aslan, did he not ever want Lucy to find a suitor. If this was how she reacted to Susan's betrothal; then Aslan save him from the day _she_ gets engaged. He may as well dig out his own grave now rather than suffer in silence later. He hung his head back in agony, _why him_?

"Oh, _Eddie_ , Edward is here," Lucy called from the door.

"My saviour!" Edmund said out loud without thinking as the newly appointed Royal Porter bowed respectfully before his Kings and Queens.

Straightening, his friend regarded him with a raised eyebrow. Shrugging off the seamstress who was approaching him frighteningly with a pair of scissors, Edmund reached the door in four long strides.

"Tell me that you've finished your shift," he said to the man.

The shorter male nodded, suppressing his amusement in the presence of the other monarchs.

"I'll be off then," Edmund announced to his siblings and Caspian, "Edward and I have _quite_ important business to discuss."

Edmund all but pushed his way out of Susan's solar. Edmund quietly acknowledged the guards by the doors as he dragged Edward away.

"Edmund!" They could hear Peter calling after them, his voice tinged with thinly veiled envy and exasperation. "Going to the tavern does not constitute as an important business!"

Edmund snickered and Edward hid his grin expertly.

"I'm telling you, one of these days I'm going to throw Susan off that Eastern cliff. I don't think the council will mind. In fact, they may even appreciate me for getting rid of the reason behind half the expenses in the castle." Edmund commented as he casually strolled in the direction of the inn with Edward closely behind him.

Edward snorted, "I think it may be seen as treason, Edmund, even if she is your sister." Formalities were dropped once they were away from watchful eyes. Whilst both men considered the other to be their closest friend, they were both heedful of social expectations when in a crowd. "One may even say that the council may view this as your advance in endeavouring to become the High King."

It was Edmund's turn to snort this time; "they would take that as an opportunity to put me behind bars wouldn't they?"

"Too right."

It was no secret that the councilmen resented Edmund for his intuition and knowledge as on most days, Edmund's astute proposals made the senior council members look like abecedarians who had no idea about what they were doing.

As they stepped into the local tavern, Edmund made eye contact with the barkeeper who immediately bowed before his king; Edmund courteously returned the gesture with a nod. Edmund and Edward were quite the regulars in this particular tavern. The young king appreciated the fact that most of the inhabitants were so inebriated that they rarely realised that their king was with them.

The barmaids were the only exception; their stares and curtsies would raise his hackles but after a couple of drinks, he would find himself not caring.

Taking a seat in the corner of the room, they waited for the maid to bring their usual order, Narnia's Fine Goblin-Made Mead.

"So, how's your sister's healer training going?" Edmund inquired politely.

"Well, I believe. Though Peter isn't too happy that she wants to support herself. What we earn is more than enough to cover her fancies, but she refuses."

"You cannot blame her," Edmund placated, "sitting idly in the palace is enough to do my head in and considering the size of Cair Paravel; I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like in a home significantly smaller with far fewer people."

"Thank you," Edward automatically thanked, as two goblets of mead were placed on the table.

He was glad for the interruption; he didn't quite have the same views as Edmund when regarding Sally. Edmund was very pro-independence and Edward would rather it if his sister was safe and sound and at home.

Edmund followed the line of the bandaged hand in front of him to the barmaid who was serving them and frowned in confusion; it was not Edna.

He regarded at the new girl with a perplexed expression. His eyebrows bunched together in the middle, his lips set into a thin line as he took in her English rose complexion. It was unusual to see someone as pale, if not paler, as himself.

Her pallid skin had a natural flush to it; not the fake powdery blush that women appeared to favour these days, Susan would be envious. Her pink lips were slightly glossy and wet as if she had recently dampened them with her tongue. Her plain brown eyes, framed by thick lashes and perfectly arched thick brows were unfocused; only the bruising under her eyes marred her otherwise perfectly put-together appearance. Her caramel-honey-brown hair was pulled back in a sophisticated braided bun that looked severely out of place at the Greyhound.

In short, she was quite possibly the plainest woman, a far cry of the most beautiful he'd seen around Narnia in quite a while. But, there was an aura around her that was surprisingly magnetic; he felt a tug at the pit of his stomach and immediately knew that he wanted to know more. How was it possible that she'd slipped his sight for so long?

"Hermione?" Edmund snapped his head towards Edward, who'd spoken.

' _He knew her?'_ Edmund's stomach churned unpleasantly with a feeling that he couldn't quite decipher.

 _ **Hermione**_ , why did that name seem so familiar, yet so old? Edmund knew that he didn't know her; he'd be a fool to forget someone as strikingly bewitching as her. So from where had, he heard her name?

Said girl, snapped out of her thoughts and looked at Edward. The fire in his stomach grew wilder when she smiled sweetly at his friend. Edmund grabbed the goblet and took a large swig of his mead.

"What are you doing here?" Edward asked.

Another large swig of alcohol burned its way down Edmund's throat.

"Oh, they had an open position so I thought I'd take it temporarily until I found something better," she replied, her voice as sweet and polished as her appearance. His goblet rested against his lips; her voice was not what he had been expecting. It wasn't as high-pitched or worryingly baritone, like the rest of the barmaids who worked here and fawned over him. He wasn't sure why he had expected that. Perhaps he'd hoped that it would be a turn-off.

 _'A turn-off?'_ He repeated to himself in his head with a deep frown and a shake of his head, as though that motion would help clear his thoughts.

"And Peter _let you_?" Edward asked, his voice rising in pitch as he exclaimed his incredulity.

A devilish smirk and a glint of something quite wicked appeared in her eyes, it was an obvious outward display of insubordination which you rarely saw with the ladies in Narnia. It only made Edmund want to get to know her all the more. She began to move away from the table, and Edmund's eyes followed her, unable to tear his gaze away.

Apparently so had Edward, as his friend called out: " _Are you wearing_ _ **breeches**_ _?_ "

If it was, at all, possible, Edmund could have sworn that the smirk on her face grew wider, before she disappeared into the kitchens. Edmund's eyebrow kinked up with amusement. How curious.

"She didn't curtsey," Edmund commented offhandedly, frowning into his glass.

Edward panicked needlessly, "Oh you must forgive her, she's quite new to Narnia. I don't think she knows much about the monarchs."

Edmund lifted his gaze, not bothering to waste his time in correcting Edward about his views on propriety, but far more interested about _Hermione_.

"Whatever do you mean?" He asked, interestedly.

"Well," Edward hesitated; then made a show of leaning closer to him across the table. Edmund copied his motion, curiosity overwhelming him. "Sally found her injured in the woods."

Edmund raised an eyebrow, his impatience showing as Edward leaned even closer.

"Any closer and they'll think you're my escort," he responded with a sarcastic smile.

Edward shot him a withering glance but returned to his original position.

"Says she escaped from the slave trade," he whispered across the table.

It took Edmund a moment to repeat the sentence in his mead-addled mind in utter shock, before understanding why Edward had considered the information sensitive.

"Calormen?" Edmund growled; the slave trade was worsening across Narnia's neighbouring lands.

"We assume so. As you can imagine, she's reasonably guarded about the matter. Peter's willing to take her in as his charge. She is of age, but she has no family. In fact, Peter was going to get ahold of the paperwork to legalize her as a Narnian citizen this week. We weren't too sure if she'd be allowed to stay, though..." Edward mused, the mead loosening his tongue.

"Tell them to come by my solar tomorrow. I will personally certify her citizenship." Edmund wasn't sure what made him say it; perhaps it was the mead talking.

Leaning back, he drained the last of his drink and as he stared into his emptied glass, he pictured her glossy pink lips and mischievous brown eyes … ' _definitely the mead_ ,' he frowned with a taste of something bitter in his mouth.

.

.

.

* * *

 **EDITED: 07/07/17**

 **A.N/** This chapter is dedicated to Comic Critic, my first reviewer! Thank you so much for taking a moment to give me some feedback!

If anyone is wondering about the ages of all my characters:

 **KADERS**  
Peter -26  
Oliver - 24  
Derrick - 23  
Henry - 21  
Tobias - 21  
Edward - 20  
Salliah - 17

Hermione - 18

Peter - 24  
Caspian - 24  
Susan - 22  
Edmund - 20  
Lucy - 17

Your review is the fuel that charges my writing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Moments in Time  
**

 **Disclaimer:** Copyright J.K. Rowling & C.S. Lewis

* * *

 **III:** Living or Existing

or

"Sometimes you get the best light from a burning bridge."

* * *

"Sh-shall we move onto the taxes?" Count Edgware stammered as he flicked through his leather-bound book of accounts.

Edmund lazily turned towards the man; he cocked his eyebrow as he tried to remember the last time Count Edgware had ever made a statement during court processions. His memory came up blank. Count Edgware was a quiet man, he went about his business and rarely made a fuss - Edmund initially assumed that this was because of his non-Narnian ancestry as his father had been from London. But, he was one of the most amiable men Edmund had ever worked with. What Edmund most appreciated was the preciseness in which he went about with his job. Today, however, the man was surrounded by so much nervous energy that just looking at him made Edmund feel edgy.

"What is there to discuss about the taxes?" asked Edmund.

His voice smoothly cut through the low grumbling murmurs amongst the attendants, effectively drawing everyone's attention to him and bringing order to the court.

No one was immune to the humdrum of the weekly council meetings, more often than not; several lords and councilmen dozed off - as they had today. But the minute his inimitable baritone cut through the room, those slumbering started with surprise. They (not so) conspicuously darted their eyes and fumbled with their hats deliberating whether they had attracted any attention while they had dozed off. Edmund, of course, eyed each and every single lazy body with a gaze that told them that the Just King, as always, had not missed a thing.

"Your Highness," Count Edgware inclined his head with respect, standing up a bit taller now that he had the king's attention, "I've been going through the books and there appear to be several discrepancies. At the moment our outgoings are more than our incomings; the books just aren't balancing," he notified.

Edmund narrowed his eyes, "That should not be the case; it was only last month that we raised the taxes by 2.5%. Any more and our citizens will be leading a life of poverty. We discussed that the increase in tax was more than substantial to cover all costs."

"Indeed, that is true Sire, but I just cannot seem to find where the disparity has occurred. I'm almost hesitant to suggest ... well-"

"Oh, just spit it out, man!" Lord Eugenbert rasped from his seat impatiently; evidently he was not pleased to have been awoken from his enjoyable nap. The large, plump man pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead; the Narnian heat was getting to him.

"Well, I believe that there may have been some embezzlement."

Shocked gasps and outcries ran through the court as those who had been paying part attention suddenly stood alert. The monarchs of Narnia stiffened on their thrones.

"How preposterous!" Lord Eugenbert cried. Several members of the court echoed their opinions, thievery in Narnia - it could not be dreamt of!

"Are you certain Count Edgware? Accusations such as these are not taken lightly; I'm sure you know," Peter said gravely; a frown marred deep into his face.

The count nodded vehemently, "I am aware of my allegations, Your Majesties."

"Very well," Caspian stated, after a clear moment of thought, "this court is adjourned, Count Edgware, if you would please, stay behind to discuss the situation."

Lord Starcious and Lord Eugenbert opened their mouths to argue but were quelled by stern looks from their kings and queens. Slowly, but grumbling about the state of affairs, the amassed court filed out through the large wooden doors, unable to believe the turn of events. The door thunked shut with a loud echo.

The nervous accountant fumbled with the book in his hands, pressing loose leafs of parchment back into their places before walking up to the thrones. He bowed respectfully before them.

"If you wouldn't mind Count Edgware," Edmund suggested, as he held a hand out for the book. The man hurried over and pressed it into the king's hands with eagerness.

"Take a look for yourself, Sire. Perhaps you will be able to see what I cannot," the man spoke humbly, he fumbled with his hands, entwining them and twisting them.

Edmund spared a kind smile towards the gentleman before glancing down at the book. He frowned as he skimmed over the numbers, Edgware was right; some inconsistencies dated back to almost six months ago.

"Why has this only just been brought to our attentions?" Edmund questioned as he looked at the man with watchful eyes.

The accountant wilted slightly under his gaze, "You must forgive me, Your Majesties, for I did notice the alterations as it initially started occurring, but I was a fool. I believed it to be -" the count coughed uncomfortably. "...Well, a cause of the frequent lavish parties the castle held."

The count blushed as he pointedly avoided making eye contact with the Gentle Queen.

Susan looked equally uncomfortable and flustered.

"Do continue," she spoke softly, staying true to her title, wearing a genial smile on her face despite her embarrassment. Count Edgware looked visibly relieved that he was not in trouble for indirectly offending the queen.

"But then it sustained," he continued, "an equal amount every week, it is all in the books as expenses, but never from the same station which made it difficult for me to track."

"Are you suggesting that someone is deliberately adjusting the book figures to make it seem as though there are more expenses incurred than actual?" Edmund questioned.

"Yes Sire," the man nodded, his hat slipping down on his forehead slightly, "that is precisely why it has taken me so long to uncover the truth. Of course, last month when I mentioned it in court - it was mistaken as an opportunity to increase the taxes..." he fumbled clumsily through his words.

"Which is why you were outright this time," Peter finished with a sigh, rubbing his forehead, looking as though he had a severe headache coming along.

"Why did you not come to us in private? I'm sure our Just King would have gladly looked over the accounts with you," Caspian told the man politely, though, the exasperation in his voice was not hidden as well as he'd hoped.

"But I tried Sire, I was told that the kings were too busy to take an audience and that the queens simply did not indulge in affairs of accounts."

Lucy and Susan bristled at the insult.

"Who told you _that_?" Lucy asked, in her honey-sweet voice, though there was an undercurrent of acidity running through her tone.

Edmund hid his smirk behind a carefully placed hand as his younger sister's rare vindictive temperament came out.

"Why Lord Eugenbert of course," Count Edgware said, slightly flustered, referring to the Lord of Communications.

The monarchs frowned in thought. Edmund's eyes darkened as he flicked through yet another page.

"You wouldn't mind if I kept hold of this to take a better look?" The Just King asked out of simple courtesy, but everyone in that room knew that it was more rhetorical than anything.

"Of course not Sire, if you would like, I can give you the information I've gathered thus far regarding where I believe the discrepancies formed each month?" Count Edgware suggested graciously; obviously wanting to be of most help to the monarchs as possible.

"That would be most appreciated," Edmund agreed with a smile. "I'll take off now; I thank you for your astuteness Count Edgware." Edmund nodded at the man who bowed to him again before stalking off to his study.

Edmund could feel a migraine forming, and the Narnian heat was not the cause of it.

"Would you like to join us for some tea?" Susan kindly offered to the man in the background.

The last thing Edmund had heard before he left the courtroom was the count's gentle protests against Susan's and Lucy's keen insistence.

* * *

Edmund held great pride in himself for being the most read out of all of his siblings and Caspian. Peter and Caspian often, quite impulsively, thought with their swords and Susan and Lucy did stay out of dealing with most issues of the court. The queens felt that they had a softer touch when it came to their citizens and it was seen in the past that they struggled to stay impartial when dealing with difficult issues - discovered after that one time Lucy invited an entire orphanage to stay at the castle while the building was being repaired after a misfortunate bout of flood. So by default, the duty fell to him. A great deal of cloak-and-dagger matter went on in political circles; and only he, of everyone, could ever keep up.

Edmund also had a flair for numbers, it was a natural talent. He could quickly process data in his mind like no other man in Narnia, and he was able spot miscalculations in mere seconds. Therefore, it truly stumped him when he realised that Count Edgware had been right. Whoever had messed with the accounts had been extremely subtle and smart because there was not one specific detail that he count pinpoint as the access point from where the money had gone missing.

The young king let out a long-suffering sigh, as he ran his fingers through his tousled hair. He leaned back into his dark antique wing chair and closed his eyes to escape reality for a short while. He had only been at the tavern last night, but he felt the need to return for another alcoholic beverage - it was the only thing that cleared his mind off the stress of being a king - even if it only provided him a short relief and (almost always) a nasty hangover.

"Long day, Sire?" Edmund kept his eyes closed as his security detail, Dagger slinked into the room and found his comfortable spot under Edmund's table, by his feet.

The calming rhythmic motion of the large canine's tail tapping the ground soothed Edmund somewhat as he re-opened his eyes.

"That's one way to put it," Edmund stated.

The grey wolf let out a noise that resembled a snort as he lifted his head and looked at his king. His expression morphed from amusement to concern as he noticed and felt the tension radiating from the king's body.

"It's only just turned midday, Sire. What's happened?" He drawled in that rumbling, languid voice of his though his concern was evident.

Edmund lazily trailed his eyes over from the window to his guard, "There appears to be a thief in the court." The frown that had previously been present on his face reappeared.

"What?" The large wolf snarled, looking outraged - a terrifying expression to see on such an animal - and in his haste, forgetting to attach a title when addressing Edmund.

Edmund could not reply, for he had no answer. He did not even know where to begin his search. "Embezzlement in court. Never thought I'd be saying those words in regards to Narnia." Chagrin was clear in his voice.

"This is what happened when you let Telmarines live comfortably in Narnia," Dagger commented offensively, with a long growl.

Edmund gave the wolf a dark stare, expressing silently his wishes for him to mind his words, for such discrimination, was the main root of most of the problems in Narnia.

"I misspoke, my King. But you know that my words are true, Sire, the Talking Animals, and Old Narnians would never cause conflict such as this," replied the Talking Wolf, feeling suitably cowed.

"Be that as it may," Edmund warned as they retraced a time-old argument, "the Telmarines are also rightful citizens of Narnia and we, the monarchs, have accepted them as such. Narnia is no longer only a home for the Old Narnians. It is a moot point to blame the wrongdoings of one man on many."

Dagger offered no reply and merely rested his head back on the ground, choosing not to argue with his king. Such was the presence Edmund held, to argue back would only make him look shameless and at the end of it all, Edmund would win the argument anyway. The king had a way of making you see his motion.

Edmund knew that the opinions of Narnians would be hard to change; for the long years of their suffering at the hands of Telmarines caused such a huge drift between the inhabitants. The mere respect that the Narnians held for the Kings and Queens of Old prevented another civil war from arising in Narnia. The differences in cultures and traditions between the Narnians and Telmarines, however, could not be married so suddenly; that would take time, and the monarchs all realised this.

"You have visitors," communicated Dagger.

His sensitive senses picked up noises and scents that Edmund, as a human, could not. Edmund stirred from his thoughts and turned his attention to the door.

"Enter," he called on time as two sharp raps sounded on his door.

He held in his surprise as the girl from the inn last night walked in with Captain Peter Kader. He berated himself silently as he remembered the invitation he'd extended regarding her asylum in Narnia.

"My King," Peter Kader bowed.

The girl visibly digested his actions before, though reluctantly and slowly, following suit with a perfected curtsey.

"Captain, I'm glad you took my invitation," Edmund greeted, as he stood up and encouraged them further into the room.

"Of course, Sire," the man smiled, "His Majesty is most kind to offer us audience in his free time."

Edmund waved it off as nothing.

"Do you have the papers?" He questioned, as he eyed the file that Peter held tightly in his grasp.

Peter hastily handed over the pieces of parchment. Edmund took a brief look at the first page before looking directly at the girl. She was staring right back at him, and she remained stoic as he kept his penetrating gaze on her.

"Sire?" The Captain prompted.

Edmund snapped his attention back to him with a frown.

"If you'd give us a moment alone Captain," Edmund spoke and then continued as Peter looked at him confused, "I'm sure you know the procedure."

Not refuting his king's wishes, the man laid a placating hand on the girl's shoulder before striding out the door.

"You may take a seat," Edmund commanded, as he walked around and took his seat.

He made a show of taking deep interest in the paper in his hand while he watched, with mild curiosity, at how she carried herself. She remained stood stiffly for a brief extra moment, before slowly making her way to the comfortable chair opposite him. But as she sat he had to hide his amusement, for she was as stiff as a board - almost as though she expected manacles to shoot out from the arms of the chair and ensnare her.

She placed her hands delicately on her lap after a moment, but he could see her white knuckles, which indicated that her fists were clenched with tension. She was not clad in breeches and a blouse today and instead, to his surprise (though he was not quite sure _why_ he was surprised), she was decorously wearing an elegant dark green dress that accentuated the slight curves her blouse and trousers had not shown.

 _'Shame,_ ' he thought, ' _the breeches had absurdly suited her_.'

He could tell that she was uncomfortable wearing such pretentious clothing, for her formal posture was a dead giveaway. He could just make out, after intense scrutiny, the minute twitching of her fingers as she scrunched the material in her clenched hands. A woman who had been brought up to appreciate such fine material would have never done such a thing.

Her expression was carefully blank, completely devoid of any emotion or hints towards what she was feeling. It was strange, though, for someone who had just escaped from the slave trade to have such control over her emotions - or perhaps it wasn't strange at all; for he had never dealt with such a case before. What he had been expecting, however, was a blubbering mess - not emotionless.

She was calm, too calm.

Were he a simple man, he would have completely discarded the thought that she was hiding something, but he knew better.

Her face was proud and her posture even more so, she was clearly a woman from an upper class lifestyle, and suddenly, Edmund started to see the contradictions to her story.

His eyes narrowed.

"State your name, please," he said monotonously, feigning disinterest, as the looked over the papers the Captain had filled out in his distinct scrawled script that Edmund had become acclimated to over years of reading reports.

The Kader family were loyal to the Narnian Kings and Queens - the brothers were some of the best men in his personal ranks, but he also knew that loyalty could be easily led astray with a pretty face.

No man was immune to the charms of a beautiful woman. And the woman before him was nothing but bewitching. Perhaps it had been the lighting at the inn that had not done her justice, but out in the clear, broad daylight, he could see her for what she was.

Thick brown wild curls framed her heart-shaped face. She had a fair complexion that glowed with a hint of pink (though, there were hints of a formation of a tan), clearly she did not get out much (but could he expect any more from someone who had been enslaved, was she even who she said she was?). It was not her pouting pink lips and the sweet smile he'd caught a glimpse of last night that was the most alluring part of her; no, it was the fire of intelligence that burned behind her eyes. Her chocolate brown, almond-shaped eyes were framed by an abundance of dense eyelashes. They were orphic, and he felt himself being drawn in like a vulnerable man to a siren.

"Hermione Granger," she answered in an equally wearisome voice, though, hers was not as grave and still sounded angelic - as though she was casting a spell over him.

Her name was quite strange, her surname, in particular, not like any of the others that he'd heard of in Narnia or Calormen. But Edmund's vocabulary was voluminous, thanks to Susan's fun wartime games, and so, he knew that 'granger' was another occupational name for a farmer. Farmer was not a word that existed in Narnia, they were called agronomists.

His skeptical scrutiny of her increased.

"You seek asylum in Narnia, is this correct?" He inquired as he looked at her date of birth.

 **September 19th**.

He frowned at the lack of the year written on the page.

"That is correct." Edmund glanced up at her, noticing that her eyes were unfocused and staring out of the large glass windows that dominated his western wall - it offered a picturesque view of the coastline below.

"How did you escape to Narnia?"

He held his composure as her attention snapped back to him, her brown irises connecting with his. He had caught her off-guard.

"I beg your pardon?" She questioned.

If you were paying close attention (like he was), you could hear the slight hitch in her voice. It was only ever so slight, but details were Edmund's niche, and he was not ignorant to the sudden fear emitting from her. Dagger whipped his tail against his calf; he'd heard, or rather felt, it too.

Slowly, he placed the papers on his desk and crossed his arms on the table exuding his intimidating presence.

He stiffened faintly as her eyes casually roamed over his figure, they followed the length from his hands up to his sinewy biceps that were accentuated by the new tight white shirt that Susan had ordered to be made-to-fit for him (it was the new fashion now, apparently). Before resting on the light dusting of the day-old-five-o'clock stubble on his sharp jawline that he'd not had the time to shave off this morning.

While he was quite aware that his kingship came into play regarding his overall charisma, Edmund knew that he was not the most repellent creature in Narnia for the Ladies of the Court made him well aware that they found him extremely attractive.

Peter spent an inordinate amount of time grooming his appearance whereas Edmund let his casual roguishness work naturally for him. He should probably have thanked his father for the messy black hair that never seemed to tame. His soft, dark hair was unkempt unless he slathered it with wax (to the point where he resembled his beastly cousin, Eustace), so he decided that it was not worth the effort since it was a constant habit of his to run a hand through his hair subconsciously throughout the day. He didn't cut it short, like Peter, but it also was not hanging by his ears like Caspian; it was long enough to fall in front of his eyes and short enough to be cropped close to the back of his head.

His eyes were his best feature, if he said so himself, they reminded him of his mother when he looked in the mirror. They were pools of molten grey and he felt special that he and Susan were the only ones who shared that feature (Peter and Lucy had their father's bright, blue eyes, a colour that was far more common in Narnia). Edmund's eyes tended to change colour depending on his mood, which made them, on most occasions, appear many shades darker (because he was often pissed off about something or the other). His skin was clear and bronzed; his facial features were smooth, angular and proud. He had also inherited his father's tall 6'0" frame; Peter (annoyingly) was a couple of inches taller than he was.

Her eyes suddenly fastened on his, and he was slightly taken back by the lack of emotion in them.

Clearing his throat, he repeated, "Captain Kader stated that you were found in the woods, having escaped." Edmund looked pointedly looking down on the piece of paper that offered him that information. "My question is how?"

"I don't quite remember," she said, after a pause.

Edmund squinted at her, her accent … it was recognisable, yet so foreign.

"And, of how you crossed the borders into Narnia?" Edmund pressed, watching closely as her spine straightened and her hand trembled slightly.

"I don't remember," her voice wavered.

She was lying.

"So you have no recollection of your escape, and you cannot tell me how you managed to hide from the patrol at the borders?" Edmund confirmed as he stood up and walked behind her.

It was an old trick of his, to give his transgressor the impression of being out of sight and being fooled by the momentary relief. Then, they let their guard down, and true expressions showed on their face; all the while, he watched their reflection through the craftily placed mirror on the north wall.

He watched carefully, befuddled, as her expression remained blank.

His eyes widened in shock, as slowly, she raised her head and met his gaze steadily through the mirror. She knew his ploy, she had found the mirror, and she'd figured him out and disarmed him in mere moments.

She was exceptionally astute, he could tell by her voice that he was dealing with someone incredibly bright, but she claimed to be a mere slave.

She was a paradox and also a liar.

Not wanting to let her have the pleasure of knowing that she'd caught him out in his act, but also not having another option, he walked back around, feeling slightly sheepish. Making a quick decision, he placed himself directly in front of her, leaning against his desk, his arms crossed against his chest. His tall frame towered over her petite one. There was a moment of tense silence as both occupants refused to tear their gaze from the other. In the end, her resilience wore out as she realised that she was the disadvantaged one in the room. He was, after all, _King_. There was not much she could do that wouldn't end up with her in the dungeons.

"There was a rebellion, you see. The slaves were tired of being told where they belonged and that they were inferior, so they fought back. Formed their army, an uprising, to fight for their freedom."

There was truth in her words that much was evident, as there was an unmistakable fire of indignation in her eyes and her nails dug into the red leather arms of his armchair. But the story also had gaping holes. He felt like he was only being fed a slice of the whole cake.

"Surely such a battle would not have escaped the notice of Narnians," Edmund commented skeptically.

"Well, the slaves weren't victorious," she replied, eyes downcast and suspiciously shiny, her voice had a tremor to it, "and no master would ever admit to losing control of his slaves. So it remained a secret."

"And you? How did you escape?"

"I saw my friend killed, in front of my eyes. I was running towards him, and then my _mistress_ ," she spat the word with such disdain and hate that his eyebrows rose to his hairline, "...stopped me. She grabbed me and tortured me." Her voice turned colourless again; it sent shivers down his back hearing someone talk about their torture with no emotion. "I lost consciousness and then, I found myself here. In Narnia."

He knew that the tale was the basic truth embellished with white lies; for that was the best form of lying. She'd stripped down to the core of the story, removing all other essential details that would have tied it up with a neat bow. The lies were evident, but the truth was even more so. Though her eyes portrayed no dishonesty, his gut knew otherwise. It had taken him a while, but the more she'd spoken, the longer he'd listened to her voice, and he knew instantly that she was no Calormene slave.

"I'd have an easier time believing you, were it not for your accent," he stated.

Her eyes met his; there were bewilderment and despondency there, but the fear was so much more clearer to him this time.

"So perhaps I should rephrase my question to you, why would a Londoner pretend to be a Calormene slave?"

He watched as her blank face turned slack, mouth opening slightly and body unmoving. The colour drained from her face as she stared wide-eyed at him; the most emotion she'd exposed so far.

He braced his hands against his mahogany desk, leaning towards her, his face just several inches away from hers.

"How could you know? No one here seemed to recognize the city, let alone the United Kingdom!" She spoke with a raspy voice; the hope in her voice was raw. "Do you know how I can travel back to Britain? Please, I would be forever grateful to the Kingdom of Narnia if you can help me take the next flight or even a boat to London."

Edmund flinched away from her. "That's not possible." She didn't respond immediately, but the confusion was clearly visible on her face. "Narnia exists in a different world. All those that enter Narnia have no safe passage home. If you're here, then you're dead there. The in-between no longer exists for the safety of Narnia and its people."

He was quite worried that she was going to faint, the lack of colour on her normally flushed face was alarming.

"How could you know for sure?"

"Because I too am from London, Finchley 1942 to be precise and I cannot return."

She remained ashen and still for a moment, he felt an instinctive wave of discomfort and pity - as he always did - when he saw a woman cry.

He didn't try to stop her when she quietly excused herself and gracefully walked out of his office; she didn't break out into a run until she was clearly outside his doors. He could hear Captian Kader call for her as she ran.

He sighed heavily, for a moment there, he thought that he had solved the puzzle that was Hermione Granger; but now, he only had more questions. He thought back to her story, it was an embellished truth, but had she truly been a slave in London? That was most unusual. When he and his siblings had been transported to Narnia, as fuzzy as his memory was ... the World War had ended, and slavery was illegal. Had the Great Kingdom fallen that far?

"Your Highness," Edmund snapped back into his rigid stance as the Captain bowed before him. "If I may be so bold…" Edmund nodded. "What happened?"

"I may have been insensitive about some subjects... Please pass my condolences to Miss Granger," Edmund said, though without any real guilt.

He walked around his desk and plucked his ring off his finger. Pouring some hot wax from a lit candle onto the citizenship paper that had been waiting for approval, Edmund stamped his royal insignia on the ring into the wax. Satisfied with it, he handed the papers to the captain.

"And please welcome her to Narnia on behalf of myself and my siblings."

"Of course, Sir," Peter bowed again.

His confusion remained, but the man knew better than to question his king's actions.

So silently, he left in search of the upset girl.

.

.

.

* * *

 **EDITED: 07/04/2017**

 **A.N./** So there's Chapter 3. The truth's out, Hermione knows a bit more about Narnia now, and has a definite answer for the unlikeliness of returning home.

Thank you to my kind reviewers: Royal Lemur, Utrix, and Comic Critic! You guys are awesome! :)

Let me know what you thought of this chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

**Moments in Time**

 **Disclaimer:** Copyright J.K. Rowling & C.S. Lewis

* * *

 **IV:** The Shape of Things to Come

or

"Don't look back; you're not going that way."

* * *

Peter Kader, age twenty-six, was a simple man. His friends would say that his family was his everything. Though his siblings would say that his career defined his existence.

Peter was born in Calormen, the eldest child of the family. He had been named after the High King from the Golden Ages of Narnia some one thousand years ago (his mother had been quite fond of the fables of Narnia). He had five younger brothers and during the birth of his younger sister, due to unforeseen circumstances, the Kader siblings had lost their mother. Peter's father fell into a depression, not soon after that, and it consequently became the key to the end of his short life.

From that day on, it became Peter's responsibility - as the eldest - to take care of his siblings from a ripe age of thirteen.

His first big course of action (several years after they'd been made orphans), as the head of the family, had been to move his siblings away from the toxic village where they lived. The constant whispering behind their backs and spiteful rumours of the reason their father committed suicide made him and his younger brothers red with anger; Sally had been too young to understand.

' _Perhaps the last child was not his own_.' They would whisper as they stared at the red locks on his sister's head; so starkly different to the hereditary Kader black tresses. Apparently, everyone had chosen to forget the fact that their mother had been a redhead.

And so, they had packed their most treasured belongings and started their pilgrimage to the revered land of Narnia.

* * *

"Peter! Pete!"

Slowing down his stride, the Captain turned around.

Oliver was running towards him, his arm flailing wildly, visually portraying that quirky manner of his that only his siblings knew about. Peter rolled his eyes fondly as the younger man finally reached him and made a show of gasping for breath.

"Whatever it is, tell me quick. I'm trying to find Hermione," Peter demanded, not in the mood for the games his brothers played with him.

They, for some absurd reason, believed that they could keep him young with their witty words and childish larks. Something that Peter both appreciated and resented. Though he was not a petty man, there were moments in his life where he envied the youthful lives his brothers led, for he had protected them so well; keeping them away from most of the harshness the world held. It was his burden to bear, after all.

Oliver nearly folded over in half with his hands on his knees, peeked at him through his floppy hair. His brother raised one eyebrow, a mocking grin forming on his lips.

"Hermione?" Oliver questioned, wiggling his eyebrows, "what about Hermione?"

It was no secret that the Kader men were quite taken with the lovely, curly-haired brunette - who had so quickly wormed her way into their lives. Though she had been with them for only a few weeks, it felt like she'd been there for more. She'd become quite the talk of the town, especially since she now worked at the tavern. She had only been at the Greyhound Inn for a day and already there were whispers about the mysterious new barmaid circulating the town and castle.

Peter sighed with exasperation, "She got upset."

A frown settled on his face again, as he remembered her devastated face when she'd run past him.

"For Aslan's sake _Peter_! Could you **not** upset _every_ woman who comes within your vicinity?" Oliver taunted, nudging him in the ribs, as he drawled his words in that infuriatingly sarcastic manner of his.

There was a glint of mischief shining in his eyes that Peter had grown fond of over the years.

Though they were the eldest of the bunch, when they were younger, both Peter and Oliver were the cause of most of the mischief that went on in the household. Being made orphans in such a short period made the two eldest boys grow up sooner than they wanted to and while Peter had shed his childlike innocence, he had sheltered his partner in crime from the storm that was the reality of life.

"It wasn't me, _Ollie,_ " the older brother glowered, but with no real heat. "Now, if you could tell me what you were in such a rush to say, I can be on my way," he deadpanned, with an air of impatience that only the eldest child would have over their siblings.

"Well, King Caspian would like your presence in his solar."

The repartee was broken; as it always did when their jobs came into question.

"Couldn't you have told me that sooner?" Peter asked feeling slightly annoyed.

"You're the one talking about heartbroken young girls," Oliver smirked as he fiddled with the sword hanging limply on his hips. "Go," he prompted as his brother looked hesitant, "I'll find Hermione."

Peter smiled at his brother, placing a thankful hand on Oliver's shoulder as he hurried away towards the East Wing.

"Oh!" Peter suddenly remembered the parchment in his hand; he turned back towards his brother. "Give this to Hermione, would you?" It was rhetorical as, without waiting for an answer, he hurried off to meet his king.

"Yeah, sure," Oliver mumbled as he shook his head at his brother.

Unraveling the parchment, he skimmed the page. His eyes clouded in confusion, why would Hermione be upset? Her citizenship had been approved.

' _Better find out,_ ' he thought as he turned towards the palace garden - it was the only nearest exit where Hermione could have gone if she'd traveled in this direction.

Although Oliver was a thoroughly trained, respected member of the palace guards; he was just as oblivious to the Just King's personal guard, Dagger, tailing him as Peter had been.

* * *

"You have the legs of a gazelle," he commented offhandedly, as he walked closer to the petite young woman.

Hermione sniffled in shock, looking up at him with puffy, red-rimmed eyes, her nose was snotty, and lips were swollen from where she had bitten down too hard. Oliver was taken back by her state, and a part of him couldn't help but appreciate that though she looked a far cry from her usual composed self, she still looked beautiful in that unique way of hers.

"My brother can't be that bad with dames - to make you run that fast - can he?" He tried to comment with an air of indifference, to give her the satisfaction of not being pitied upon, but his voice came out weak and choked (and he was pretty sure that it broke halfway through his sentence - but they both chose to ignore that).

"What?" She sniffled with confusion, rubbing the mucus dripping from her nose with her bandage, as using her hem of her dress was far too unmannerly.

Oliver hastily pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket.

"Here," he winced as he noted that the corner of the fabric was tainted with a couple of drops of blood, but Hermione was either ignorant of the fact or simply didn't care as she took it from him with a look of gratitude.

He looked around the garden with apprehension, but seeing no one around, he hesitantly took a step forward - as though he was still contemplating his move - before he finally decided ' _heck it all_ ' and perched on the edge of the fountain beside her. There was a moment of calm silence as both of them admired the scenery of a well-kept garden; while simultaneously grimacing at the awkwardness that was quickly befalling between them.

"Peter ... I mean surely he can't be that bad ...," Oliver scratched the back of his neck with nervous energy, as Hermione remained bewildered. "I mean to make a girl like you ... cry like this ..." he'll admit, his openers were not the best, but it did the job.

"A girl like me?" Hermione pursed her lips, looking displeased.

"No, don't take it the wrong way, it's just - my first impression was that you are not the type of girl to - you're _strong_. By Aslan, you _have to be_ , to have survived and escaped the way you did." As he was avoiding her gaze through his awkward explanation, he missed her grimace. "So to see you like ... _this_ ... it's strange. - It doesn't suit you," he stuttered.

Hermione spared him a small, but kind smile. He quirked his lips charmingly in return.

"Thank you ... I think. But you're wrong there; it wasn't Peter."

"Then who was it?" His gaze was slightly more dangerous and his tone no longer mediating now, his hand instinctively fell on the hilt of his sword.

"Unless you are prepared to run a sword through your king, I would take the hand off the sword," she snarked as his mouth fell open in stupefaction.

"Which one?" The words stumbled out of his mouth out of habit.

" ... The Just, believe it or not."

"Oh ... really?"

"Hmm."

"Well, I mean, I do believe it - 'coz Eddie has told us many stories about the silver-tongued king - but I'm surprised _he_ upset you."

"Why?"

"Well, because King Edmund is known to be chivalrous and charming with the women. He saves his callous eloquence for the court."

"Charming is the last word I would use to describe him ..."

"Curious." In truth, Oliver was slightly mystified. A woman usually had nothing but compliments to reap about the youngest king.

"So how did they become friends?"

"..."

"King Edmund and Edward, I mean. God, it's so confusing that they practically have the same name! Isn't the High King also called Peter?" She questioned remembering the history lesson Derrick had given her about Narnia.

Oliver chuckled, "My mother's to blame for that. She was ... _fond_ ... of the Old Narnian tales. It was a surprise that she chose such a unique name for Sally actually; we half expected her to be named a variation of Lucy or Susan."

"Ah, and your mother she's ...?" There was a pause.

Hermione, though a brave Gryffindor and articulate speaker, couldn't quite find the words to form her question. But her intent was understood, and his silence was all that she needed.

"Oh," she muttered.

"Yup," Oliver replied popping the 'p' on his lips. "We're not quite sure how Eddie and the king met," he swiftly changed the subject, "Eddie has always kept his silence on that. But one day the king just turned up at our house for dinner and ... we just didn't question it."

Hermione cocked an eyebrow in surprise.

"Well I mean after he'd left, Sally had thrown a fit about not being warned in advance - she used to have a crush on King Edmund then, you see - but somehow it became a normality. King Edmund does not have the tendency to throw about his status in people's faces, so it's just quite easy to forget when you're in his presence."

"I would have thought that there would have been an uproar about a king spending his free time with someone of not the right class of society," Hermione replied, choosing to ignore Oliver's last statement.

King Edmund had done nothing but impose his status towards her. He was shrewd, she thought, as he had not outwardly spoken about his rank; but it was there, in his posture and his tone. An air of superiority wreathed around him in such an innate manner that Draco Malfoy (who now seemed like nothing more than a petulant, abrasive child to her) could only dream of exuding.

"Of course, there was, but the king and his family don't believe in all that hogwash. King Edmund quickly shut down the gossip that was spreading, tore down the root of the grapevine as it were. No one bats an eyelid now."

"Curious," Hermione echoed his earlier choice of words.

Oliver couldn't help but smirk at that, Hermione, if anything, was a sensational conversationalist, and it was almost with sour regret (as he gazed at the positioning of the sun in the sky) that he turned back to her looking despondent.

"As illuminating as this conversation has been, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to beg your leave. I must be back at my post to release Gibson for lunch."

"Oh, yes, yes of course. How silly of me, you go ahead. I'll leave in a bit."

Oliver scratched the back of his head again; it was a habit it seemed, "Well, actually, I cannot leave you here. You see this is a private garden; we shouldn't be here at all."

" _Too right you shouldn't_."

Hermione and Oliver spun around, eyes startled as they looked like a pair of deer caught in headlights.

A handsome, blond-haired king, Hermione guessed easily by the golden crown atop his head, walked closer to them.

' _God, is there something in the water?_ ' Hermione whispered to herself.

Oliver, who had heard her smirked.

So, naturally, she ribbed him.

"Oh, don't be so boorish Peter," a sweet and delicate sounding voice spoke from behind him.

Hermione craned her neck slightly to catch sight of a girl walking just behind the older king, with slightly darker blonde hair.

"Don't mind him; he gets cranky when he hasn't been fed," she continued, lightly.

Hermione snorted, then looked horrified, she covered her mouth with her hand feeling embarrassed. She avoided making eye contact with Oliver as through her peripheral vision she could see that he was trying so hard to hide his grin. The young queen, with a silver crown on her head, walked to stand in front of them and didn't look at all sore about Hermione's lack of decorum. In fact, she beamed, unlike her, unmistakably, older brother who pursed his mouth and looked vaguely annoyed.

' _It's easy to see how they are related,_ ' Hermione thought as almost subconsciously. Her brain quickly flashing an identical picture of the Just King's thin, pursed lips.

"You have to forgive us, your Majesties," Oliver apologized, "it wasn't our intention to overstay our welcome."

"Oh don't be silly," the queen laughed, "there was no harm done. After all, it's hard for lovers to find a quiet spot these days."

Hermione and Oliver gaped for a moment, before synchronously stuttering.

"Oh, we aren't ..."

"I mean ..."

"Noooo ..."

"That's just."

"Couple?"

"..."

" ... We're not a - couple?"

"No ... of course, we aren't, that's ... that's absurd."

"Are you speaking from experience?" The third voice cut their tirade, the two bumbling subjects turned towards their High King but quickly realized that he was not talking to them but his sister.

" ... What?" Lucy looked amused and perplexed.

"' _It's hard for lovers to find a quiet spot,_ '" he mimicked, "is that from experience?"

The snort that Lucy let out was full of false disbelief.

"Now Peter, do you _honestly_ think that with you and Ed hovering over my every move - that I'd _ever_ get a chance for romance?" Her question was nothing but innocent. So perfectly worded, yet laced with just the right amount of sarcasm that had Hermione, Oliver, and Peter squinting their eyes in suspicion.

"Lucy..." Peter started in a warning tone.

"Thank Aslan Caspian isn't so easily intimidated by you. Otherwise, I would have to worry about him listening to your ill-advised orders about my joie de vivre too."

" _Joie de vivre_? What in the mane does that even mean?"

"Joy of living," Hermione spoke without even thinking, and then immediately regretted it, as the attention returned to the two of them.

"And how did you know that?" Lucy asked her curiously.

Hermione tensed, clenching her fists as she felt the blood draining from her face. The phrase was French. French didn't exist in Narnia. For Merlin's sake! _France_ didn't even exist in Narnia.

How was she going to talk herself about this one?

"That would be because some of us _read_."

The quartet turned towards the fifth arrival.

King Edmund.

* * *

Hermione stared at him with startled eyes. He wasn't looking at her, but at his siblings. He was tall, she noted. He easily towered over his sister and stood just a hair's breadth shorter than his brother. Over the white shirt he had been wearing earlier, he wore a black, silver and green embroidered sleeveless jacket and a cape made of similar shades. The jacket was held together to his slim waist by a dark green belt and the cape was tied around his neck with a class that Hermione was positive resembled a snake. Ironically, it reminded her of Slytherin's emblem and house colours.

As she followed the line of his long dark cape that was swaying in the breeze, to his riding boots that she noticed the wolf who was sitting proudly next to its king. She knew that she was supposed to be intimidated, as the animal bared its teeth menacingly towards her, but her awe could not be hidden as she admired the beauty of its fur. Apparently, her lack of fear confused the large canine, as its face transformed quite comically into one of a tamed kitten. She knew immediately that it must be a Talking Animal.

Her gaze broke away when Lucy spoke up.

" ... In what _Narnian_ book would you find Fre-?"

Hermione's insides turned to ice, as fear gripped her. For a sure moment, she believed that King Edmund would reveal her secret to his siblings in front of Oliver. What would Oliver think when he found out that she had lied to him and his entire family? They would hate her, after all the kindness they had shown her.

"Why are we all standing around?" Edmund cut Lucy off, promptly but subtly, ignoring her glare as he started a tirade. "Trumpkin told me that we were convening in the gardens for afternoon tea today, and yet I don't see any food. Some of us have actual work to do," Edmund commented brazenly as he gave a pointed stare towards his younger sister.

The younger siblings fell into a natural banter, but Hermione found herself not paying attention as she frowned at the king with confusion. Although she was grateful, Mad-Eye's shout of ' **CONSTANT VIGILANCE** ' rang in her head. She couldn't understand why he had lied for her and helped her keep her secret. Perhaps he felt guilty for upsetting her.

"If you two are _quite_ done," Peter addressed to his siblings, "let's head to the gazebo. The food should be arriving momentarily, as should Susan and Caspian."

"I don't think that I've seen you around before," Lucy commented, ignoring Peter's orders, staring straight back at Hermione (who had slowly started to wish that she was anywhere but here).

Hermione's eyes fell back on King Edmund, and she was startled when she found him staring right back at her with an indescribable intensity. She moved her eyes back towards the queen, who suddenly looked far keener about her than she previously had been, as she gaze darted between Hermione and her dark-haired brother.

"I'm new here," Hermione stated, keeping her words minimal, whatever she said here now could be thrown back in her face should the truth ever be revealed.

"New?" Peter questioned with a perplexed expression.

"Yes."

"Hermione only just became a citizen of Narnia," Oliver inputted, believing that he was being helpful.

"Who authorised that?" Peter interrogated, looking more alert suddenly.

"I did," everyone turned towards King Edmund.

Peter gave his brother a perplexed look, which Edmund returned with an ' _ask me later_ ' stare, to which Peter replied with a raised eyebrow out of an almost teasing interest, as he quickly glanced in Hermione's direction.

Lucy let out an exasperated sigh as her brothers, once again, conversed without words.

Oliver just looked entertained by how this encounter was unraveling.

"There you are!"

The moment was broken as two more people walked into what was rapidly (and quite clearly) becoming a gathering of divergent individuals.

The new arrivals (who could only be Queen Susan and King Caspian - because if Narnia had _any more_ rulers, Hermione might just lose it) looked slightly disheveled, an untucked shirt, a ruffled skirt, mussed hair, red lips (on them both) - it was almost as though they had been - _well_...

Hermione looked at the other siblings, taking in their annoyed (in King Peter's case), disgusted (in King Edmund's case) and the amused (on who must be Queen Lucy) faces, before coming to a deduction. She wondered if it was acceptable to be quite amused and disturbed at the same time over a king and queen's apparent romp.

"Oh, hello, who are you?" Queen Susan quickly asked as Peter opened his mouth to tell off his sister and cohort.

"She's new," Lucy helpfully inputted.

"Well, of course, she is," Queen Susan said almost saccharinely, "I would remember a face like that." Hermione bristled. "I was inquiring her name."

"Hermione Granger," Hermione introduced, with a bite in her tone.

Hermione caught a shift in King Edmund's stance, but when she looked at him, he maintained his stoic expression.

"And where are you from dear?" Susan questioned in that same syrupy tone, which, truth be told, was starting to grate on Hermione's nerves. It reminded her of how Pansy Parkinson would often talk down to her. Though she knew very little about the monarchs, she'd heard that Susan Pevensie was the Gentle Queen - and currently, she was being anything but.

"Calormen," Oliver replied benevolently.

"Calormen?" King Caspian asked, looking rightly troubled.

Calormenes were usually not good news, with the rare exceptions like the Kader family.

"... A Carlomene slave trade escapee."

Everyone gaped at King Edmund's casual remark, Hermione the most of them all. Her horrified expression was mistaken as her right to his blasé comment.

"What?" King Peter's voice rose by several pitches, his eyebrows having disappeared beneath his hair.

King Caspian looked appalled.

Queen Lucy stared at her with sorrow.

Queen Susan seemed regretful (perhaps her Gentle disposition was finally kicking in).

Oliver twitched, suddenly torn between wanting to take Hermione as far away as possible as he could from there and performing an act that could count as treason.

"Edmund!" Surprisingly, it was Susan who screeched in disdain.

"What?" Edmund said, looking unconcerned.

Hermione gawked at him with incredulity before holding her chin up in defiance, "Excuse me," she said before promptly turning away from them and walked in the direction of the castle. Her legs moved, faster and faster until she was all but sprinting away.

"Hermione!" She could hear Queen Lucy call from behind her (at least, she thought it was Queen Lucy, she couldn't imagine that Queen Susan would care).

But she didn't stop.

She didn't stop until she had left the castle.

Away from the taunting eyes and detached tone of the Just King.

* * *

"The library? That's really where you want to go?" Tobias asked, his tone full of incredulity as he walked her through the town.

It was Saturday. She had been in Narnia for almost a month. Time in Narnia had flown at a speed that was almost frightening, but it most certainly left behind a shadow in its wake. The moment of her arrival in Narnia was slowly becoming a haze, and her past life a distant memory. It was as though her two lives were bleeding into each other until the line separating them became erased.

The more time she spent in Narnia, the fewer memories she could recall about England. She nearly had a breakdown in the bathroom, as she was taming her hair when she couldn't remember who created the Sleekeazy's Hair Potion.

She, however, was determined not to forget who she was and what she was capable of so she'd begun to keep a diary that she kept hidden away in her beaded bag. She was a witch and living in self-pity and desolation for the past month, she had been pushing aside what needed to be done.

Her mission was quite clear: she was going to get her magic back and then she was going to find a way to get home. Harry and Ron may not be there for her anymore in that world, but she still had parents, people who she had erased the memory of herself from. She had left her parents behind not even remembering that they had a daughter and she was determined to return to them; if only to make them remember her again.

"Yes, the library. Why do you always have that tone of surprise?"

"What tone of surprise?" Tobias mimicked her mockingly.

Hermione gave him a look that told him that she was not amused. Over the month that she had been in Narnia, she slowly found herself being integrated into the Kader family like she was one of their own. The transition had been smoother than she had expected. The brothers had all but adopted her as their second sister, and Sally was just happy that she finally had someone to break up the testosterone in the household. She had also become quite good at reading them, and currently, she knew that Tobias wanted to say something to her, but was holding back (though that special talent of hers may be down to the years she spent by her male best friend's sides).

"Well, it's just, - what I mean to say is -" he stumbled over his words. Hermione, apparently, intimidated him and he was not the only Kader male who felt the need to succumb to her strict gaze.

"Oh just spit it out already," Hermione snapped, not nastily but with impatience.

"Well, I guess what I'm trying to say is - it's rare that people who have been in the ... slave trade ... to have much ... _education_."

Hermione froze.

" ... No, now, don't look like that. See this is why I didn't want to say it. Just forget it, it was insensitive of me," Tobias winced, looking very awkward and fidgety.

Hermione stared at him steadily, her heart throbbing at a fast pace.

"I wasn't always a slave," a half-truth, a compromise, she assured herself.

" ... Oh."

" ..."

"So, you were taken?"

Hermione looked at him with disbelief. She could physically feel herself digging her own grave with every question she answered.

"Ever heard the phrase, curiosity killed the cat?" Ironic, were the words that fell from her mouth.

"Erm, no? Should I know what it means? Why would curiosity kill a cat?"

"Never mind."

"No, you can't just say strange phrases and not explain them. You do that all the time, and it is frustrating! Do you know what it's like to not know what someone is talking about? No, don't answer that because I don't think I want to know _your_ answer."

"What I was trying to say is that sometimes it's better not to know everything, just leave it be."

"But what has that got to do with a cat?"

Hermione shot him an exasperated look.

"Are you always this annoying?"

"Annoying? How could you call my charming disposition annoying, _Her-_ mione? I'll have you know that the ladies love all of this," he exaggeratedly gestured to himself with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Hermione snorted, "Then they must have the brains of a dumb animal."

Hermione had picked up a few of the Narnian terminology quite quickly during her stay.

Tobias gaped at her, shocked before a grin spread on his face.

"You know, I have to admit that I was hesitant about you. Strange girl from the woods and all, but I think that we will get on just fine," Tobias said as he threw an arm around her shoulders.

Of all the brothers, Tobias had spent the least amount of time with Hermione thus far and so was still in the process of getting to know her. He pulled her into a sideward hug as they continued to walk.

"You're not like the other girls."

Hermione rolled her eyes but did not move to take his arm off her.

"I'm sure that it must be refreshing for you to speak to a woman who doesn't just giggle incessantly and bat her eyelashes at you," she said with a snort.

During her shifts at the bar, she had watched as the Kader men interact with other locals. They weren't frequent bar-goers from what Sally had told her, but apparently, their sense of nobility in wanting to protect her had encouraged them to be more social recently. She had, of course, been incensed (because she knew how to take care of herself!) but also flattered, so restrained herself from criticizing their inability to let a woman get on with her work. Plus, it was funny to see them loosen up a bit, but they were al rather hopeless when it came to charming women. On most nights, Hermione rolled her eyes as she watched women, the other barmaids, in particular, throwing themselves at the boys, tittering and lavishing them with praise in a manner that reminded her of Lavender Brown. The Kader men, though, sat on the edge of their seats, looking highly uncomfortable and perhaps even a bit retarded when it came to female interaction. One instant where Edward dribbled his mead as a pretty girl leaned over the table to talk to him; giving him an ample view of her cleavage, reminded Hermione so much of Harry's foolish moments in front of Cho that it made her feel forlorn and nostalgic.

Hermione jumped with surprise, knocked out of her thoughts as Tobias threw his head back and laughed. Hermione smiled at his infectiousness as she tried to stifle giggles of her own.

"Don't let them hear you say that. They'll probably tear you limb from limb," he warned.

"I'd like to see them try," she quipped.

Tobias glanced at her from beside her, looking her up and down in a way that made her flush slightly, "I have no doubt," he agreed.

She found herself blushing brighter. Tobias cleared his throat, as he too realised that he was quite apparent.

"So while we are on the terms being forward," Hermione's eyes widened comically as she misunderstood where the line of conversation was heading, "you wouldn't mind if I asked you about your parents?"

The relief on her face was almost laughable, though at the same time painfully wretched.

"No," she replied, frowning, it had been a while since anyone had brought up her parents.

Harry and Ron had carefully avoided the topic during their run. Her eyes clouded as she remembered, again.

"Sorry," Tobias murmured as he looked at her anguished face.

Hermione huffed, a tired sigh escaping her lips. "No, don't. I guess I need to get used to the idea that I will never be seeing them again."

Tobias cringed but did not say anything.

"My parents were nothing _special_ per say, just your average man and wife I guess. They were both dent- erm, tooth healers."

"Tooth healers?" Tobias asked, looking befuddled at the idea. "Calormen is a weird place."

"Hmm," Hermione murmured, trying to sound as though she agreed, "I suppose the best thing about them," she continued, taking him off from his thoughts about professions that did not exist; "was that they loved me a lot. _A lot_. And now, they don't even remember me," she ended with a sorrowful whisper.

"What do you mean? How could they forget _you_?"

"Well, I mean, it's just been so long. I'm sure I'm nothing but a distant memory," she corrected her mistake, fluttering her eyelashes with annoyance as the excuse sounded weak to even her ears.

"Hermione," Tobias grabbed her by the shoulders, making sure that she maintained eye contact with him while he murmured the next few words, "no parent would ever forget their child. It's impossible. I'm sure, somewhere, wherever they are, your parents remember you and are wishing the best for you."

Hermione did not respond verbally; she merely gave him a tearful nod.

 _'Oh, if only you knew.'_

"You're right, curiosity did kill the cat," he commented as they resumed their walk through the town.

He still wasn't entirely sure what it meant, but he was certain that he was using it in the correct context. It just felt ... _right_. No matter how alien it was. Hermione huffed a laugh, quickly wiping her eyes with the back of her hands as Tobias pretended not to notice; she mentally thanked him for that.

"You remind me of someone I used to know," she commented.

"Someone good, I hope?"

"Definitely good. He was a best friend of mine."

" ... _Was_ , you said was. He's not around anymore?"

" ... You have no tact at all do you?"

"..."

"You're absolutely like him."

"What can I say, Hermione, us tactless fellows, are one in a million. You're lucky to have found two in your lifetime."

"I'm not sure if lucky is the word that I would use."

"No, you're right ... blessed is apter," he winked.

"You're ridiculous."

"And you love me for it."

"..."

"Well, not love me in a romantic way, well, I mean it can be if you want it to be ..." he peered at her through his peripheral vision, "... don't look so abhorred by the thought! I tell you, you don't know what you are missing out on."

"I'm not looking for any romantic relationships right now."

"I was just jesting Hermione," he snickered. "... what are you looking for in Narnia then?"

"There goes that cat again."

He just shrugged noncommittally at her and remained silent waiting for her answer.

"I'm looking to find myself," she murmured; she didn't need to look up to know that he was staring at her pitifully. Both of them spent a moment of silence in reflection. "... And a good _friend,_ " she added for comic relief.

"Well, you needn't look further," he commented, throwing his arms out wide; in a gesture of ' _I'm right here_.'

"Impossible. Completely impossible, you are."

"Come on Hermione!" Tobias laughed, pulling her by the arm, good-naturedly, as they reached their destination. "What did you want to read about in the library anyway?"

"Aslan. I want to know more about _Aslan_."

.

.

.

* * *

 **Edited: 08/04/2017**

 **A.N./** Chapter 4! I hope you guys are enjoying the story so far! Again I wanted to take a moment to thank the lovely, lovely people who left a review:  twztdwildcat, Royal Lemur, Comic Critic and Utrix, _**you're awesome**_!

Here's a virtual cookie for you guys (.;)!

Reviews are like cinnamon rolls.


	5. Chapter 5

**Moments in Time**

 **Disclaimer:** Copyright J.K. Rowling & C.S. Lewis

* * *

 **V:** Finding a Purpose

or

"The trick to being smart is knowing when to play dumb."

* * *

 _Dear Merlin, the sun bright this morning!_

 _The bright rays peeked in through the wide-open window, casting a white light on her hair that made it seem shades lighter than it naturally was. Hermione groaned as she lifted her head up from her pillow, her hair falling down her back is a mass of scrunched curls. She knew it resembled a bird's nest, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Running a hand through the tangled mess, she brought up her other hand to wipe the sleep dust from her eyes. Her toes curled around the soft carpet beneath her feet and she sighed at the luxury._

 _She then frowned._

 _It was late morning._

 _Why was she still in bed? Sally usually woke her at the crack of dawn to make breakfast. Molly Weasley's pancake recipe was well loved by the Kader family and they demanded to have it for breakfast on most days._

 _The sun's vibrant rays sent a glossy gold sheen through the room, it seemed ethereal ... unnatural._

 _The alarm bells in Hermione's head began to ring as she noted, for the first time since waking up, that she was in her old bedroom._

 _Not the one that she shared with Sally in Narnia, but the one back home with her parents in London._

 _How was this possible?_

 _Hope set alight within her, had all that been but a dream?_

 _Was she really back home?_

 _Her parents?_

 _Excitement filled her as she scrambled out, pulling off the last bit of her duvet that had been covering her, and running down the staircase and into the family room._

 _Her eyes were wild, filled with hope and anticipation._

 _And then it dimmed._

 _Reality hit her like a tonne of bricks. Dejection coloured her expression. The room was furnished, but bare. It did not show the signs of a lived in home, it felt cold and vacant. Tears collected in her eyes as she walked closer to the mantelpiece, and she couldn't stem the flow of them as she stared back at the photos. The irony was not lost on her. Where those frames had once been filled with loving photographs of a family, was now displaying a sole figure. Her._

 _The day that she had obliviated her parents, she had watched as her face disappeared from their lives, being erased from their memories. Now, here she stood, willing to give anything to have them back, to experience their love again, to see their faces (which were slowly becoming a blurry memory, the more time she spent in Narnia) it at least a photograph, but it was not there. It was cruel. A cruel, cruel punishment._

 _Choking back a sob, her fingers lingered over a metal frame that once housed a photo that she had been particularly fond of, her father and her at London Zoo on her eleventh birthday - just after she'd found out that she was a witch. Staring back at the photo of a young Hermione - excited by life - seemed alien to her. It had been a long while since she'd experienced that particular thrill. The war had changed her in ways that she hadn't initially realised, or perhaps, in the depths of her mind she had, but was adamant to admit it._

 _Her eyes roamed over the room again, why was she here? Was she dreaming? A spark ignited in her brain and she walked over to the wooden bookcase beside the fireplace. Plucking a random book from the shelf, she scanned the pages. She scrunched her face, as the words seemed to morph on the page, they were distorted as though they had been spelled with a confundus charm. She looked away from the page and back again. She gasped and dropped the book as the page now displayed the image of a majestic lion._

 _She was dreaming._

' _When you dream, you cannot read words', her mind recalled from a book. Having realised the situation, the room cleared, she watched as the picture frames and furniture that held too many memories of nights in front of the fire and TV dinners disappeared until she was left with a barren room._

 _She knew that she had entered a lucid dream._

 _She had read something about this before. Only briefly, but it had fascinated her so much. The thought of being able to realise that you were dreaming and henceforth taking charge of your dream; bending everything to your own will. She wondered what she could accomplish._

 _Gathering her courage, she closed her eyes and thought of Aslan._

* * *

 _She was no longer in her childhood home anymore. She was in a meadow - a beautiful one at that. Long blades of emerald-green grass tickled the palms of her hands as she held them out; like her bedroom, this place was cast in an ethereal golden glow making it seem impossible - unreal. Everything was perfect, the perfect colour, perfect smell and even the air!_

 _She smiled almost childishly as she took in the scenery, it was like it came out of a storybook. The smile froze on her face, though, when she spotted a large object sitting in the dead centre of the perimeter. The shape of it resembled the veil at the Ministry's Department of Mysteries. Her heart stopped and then restarted at a thundering pace. Was it fear or anticipation? She couldn't quite pick out a single emotion running through her mind. But as she drew closer to the object, she realised how relieved she was over the fact that it was just a mirror and not the veil that had carried away Sirius's body._

 _Frowning, she stepped nearer to the mirror. Her head cocked to the side as a reflection of her stared back - her hair was no longer a nest, but in beautiful glossy curls that she had never been quite able to accomplish. Frowning, she reached her hand into her hair and found that it was dry and still tangled._

 _Upon closer inspection, she found that her eyes crinkled less and her lashes were thick, her brows were less bushy and more tamed, she was slightly taller, and her stomach was flatter and just a tad more toned._

 _This mirror was not a reflection._

 _It was a portrayal of the perfect version of her._

 _Hermione gasped._

 _She was no longer alone._

 _There, standing beside her were her parents, and just behind, Ron, Harry and - and the Weasleys - Molly, Arthur, Fred, George ... Remus! And even Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore. They'd won the war! Voldemort was dead at Dumbledore's feet. They had succeeded. They were happy. They were alive …_

 _She spun around – grinning from ear to ear, wanting to celebrate with her family and friend … only to find that she was still alone._

 _Breathing shallowly, she turned back towards the mirror._

 _There they were again._

 _Her trembling hand reached towards the mirror, silent tears leaked out as the images of her family and friends smiled sympathetically at her. Ron squeezed her hand. Ginny gave her a pat on the back. Fred and George were pulling faces in the background, trying to make her smile, they succeeded, only slightly, but as ever, they took any victory they could get and hi-fived each other triumphantly. Her mother reached out and gently ran her hand through her hair. Oh, how she wished..._

 _ **No**_ _._

 _This was a lie._

 _A harsh, brutal trickery._

 _They were not here._

 _They had lost the war._

 _They had lost so much in the war._

 _Fred._

 _Ron._

 _Harry._

 _Neville._

 _Lavender._

 _Padma._

 _Dumbledore._

 _They died._

 _She died._

 _It was a trap._

 _Furious, she pulled her hand away from the mirror and clenched her fists. Knuckles turned white and nails dug into palms. She took a step away from the mirror, watching as the images disappeared like wisps of smoke until it was just an image of her perfect self again._

 _She knew what this mirror was. It was the Mirror of Erised. Harry and Ron had told her stories about it from their adventures during their first year at Hogwarts._

 _She stared at the inscription on the mirror._

 _'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.'_

 _"I show not your face but your hearts desire," she said as she read the inscription for what it really stood for. She thought it was sadistic, to show something that you would never be able to achieve. And though that temptation to step closer, just for another moment, so that she could see her family again, was there, she didn't allow herself. It would be merciless to put herself through it. She supposed that she and Harry shared one more thing in common now - the desire to have their family again._

 _She turned away, heart heavy and leaden with guilt and regret, she straightened her posture and lifted her chin. It would not do to wither away in front of a mirror that showed impossible desires. She was dreaming. Nothing that is achieved in the dream world will return with her to reality._

 _When she opened her eyes, her heart stilled, for in front of her, just under a hundred yards away stood a majestic lion._

 _Her eyes widened. The lion, with gleaming burnt yellow fur and wise golden eyes with an imposing presence stared right into her soul. She knew she should be afraid, for it was easy to tell that he was no tame lion, and yet she knew he was good - that he meant her no harm. With the courage of a Gryffindor, she stepped forward, one step at a time until she stood right before him, her eyes staring right back into his._

* * *

 _"Dear heart." He greeted. She let his voice bask her in warmth that she'd never known before._

 _"Aslan?" She asked, her voice small, like a child's. He did not reply, but offered his mane to her, and Hermione instinctively reached out and pet him, as though he was a common house cat. It seemed ridiculous really._

 _"I've been looking for you." She spoke, breaking the calm quiet that had settled around them. He purred, letting her know that he knew._

 _"What causes you to seek me, child?" He questioned as Hermione continued to stroke his silky fur._

 _"I was hoping that you would give me some answers."_

 _"Answers to what questions?" The way he spoke was reminiscent to Professor Dumbledore, his voice held a world of knowledge. But Professor Dumbledore had a habit of not sharing much; she hoped this wasn't the case with Aslan._

 _"I don't - I don't know what my purpose is," she admitted the deep, dark thought that had been on her mind since she'd arrived in Narnia._

 _"Your purpose?" He questioned, but she knew that he knew more._

 _"Yes! Back in Hogwarts, my purpose was to help Harry. Help him on his quest to defeat Voldemort, I knew it and he knew it and I failed. We both failed. I just, I don't know what my purpose is in Narnia? Why was I brought here? There is no impending war, the Pevensies have helped Caspian and there certainly is no White Witch. So why am I here? Why can't I be with my family?"_

 _"Such inquisitiveness," he stated._

 _She frowned, that was not an answer._

 _"Intuitiveness is certainly one of your strengths, do not lose it Child, as you are right. You were brought here for a purpose." Hermione looked at him expectantly, her hand stilled in his fur as she awaited his answer._

 _"Your duty is to protect the Kings and Queens of Narnia."_

 _Hermione retracted her hand as she stared at the lion in bemusement._

 _"Protect them?" She echoed. "How could I possibly protect them? They're Kings and Queens! They have a whole regiment at their disposal! From what I've read, they appear to be perfectly capable of protecting themselves without the help anyway. What good am I?"_

 _"Do not disparage your importance." He had said it in the same even tone, but Hermione could not help but feel like she had been suitably chastised._

 _"Sorry," she mumbled, but she couldn't help but still feel confused, "how am I supposed to help them?" She inquired again, changing her words. "I don't even have my magic anymore."_

 _"Your magic will never leave you for it is the essence of you."_

 _"But how can I perform it without my wand?"_

 _"You have a wand."_

 _"No, I'm afraid you are mistaken, I - I lost my wand."_

 _"I am never mistaken Child." The warning in his tone was quite clear._

 _Hermione frowned as she thought back to the day when she and Sally had searched the woods for her wand. Then, she remembered. Her eyes light up in realisation and Aslan smiled. She closed her eyes and thought of the carved wood that they had found in the woods and when she opened her eyes, it was there - in her hand._

 _She twirled the piece of wood in her hand, for the first time inspection the carvings on it. At the base of the wood, was the carved face of a lion, one that closely resembled Aslan, beneath him, leading to the very tip of the wand were intricately carved caricatures of myth and legends, fawns, dwarves, dryads, mermaids and centaurs. Of course, most of them were no longer myths to Hermione as they were inhabitants if Narnia._

 _"This is yours," she said as she held the wand out towards him, just_ knowing _that he was the one who had left it in the woods for her._

 _The Lion's eyes gleamed brightly for a moment before they disappeared beneath his lids. Hermione watched in awe as he breathed over her hand. Tendrils of golden smoke engulfed her as they disappeared into her wand. And, as if by magic, the wand thrummed to life. She gasped as she felt her magic leaking through her fingertips and into the wand. They say that the wand chooses the witch, but the power she felt beneath her fingers was one that she had never felt before with her vine wood. This was made for_ _ **her**_ _._

 _"Lumos," she whispered and immediately clenched her eyes shut as the meadow shine with light as bright as the sun. "Nox!" She exclaimed quickly._

 _The light put out, but like a tonne of bricks, reality also suddenly came crashing back down._

 _"This is a dream."_

 _Her childlike glee crumbled. None of this was real. Aslan was no longer next to her. Her wand was still throbbing with magic, but it was a lie. "Wake up Hermione!_ _ **Wake up!**_ _" She shouted, grieved and desperate._

 _Suddenly, she was no longer in a meadow._

 _And there was no longer a ground beneath her feet._

 _It was pitch black, and she was falling._

 _She screamed._

* * *

"Really Edmund? Do you not sleep?"

Edmund startled at the voice. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he had not heard Lucy entering his chambers.

"Is knocking considered a disinclination now?" He questioned, ignoring her own. He placed the book in his hands back onto his desk.

"Why? Is there a reason that I should be knocking?" Lucy teased, her lips tilted into a half smile. There was a mischievous glint in her eyes that immediately made him wary, he responded by furrowing his brows at her, in both confusion and disapproval.

"Oh, don't play dumb. I saw you looking at her the other day and don't think that I haven't noticed your more recurrent visits to the pub either."

"Looking at who? And I do not visit the tavern just for a drink, you'd be surprised at how loose-lipped some people turn out to be after a drink or two."

"So you just frequent the bar for gossip?" The dubiety in her tone was evident.

"Why else would I go?"

"Well, apart from getting sloshed with Edward," Edmund glared at her, but she continued, unfazed; "I remember a certain brunette who you _just_ couldn't keep your eyes off - you may have fooled her but I saw you – _**and**_ my sources tell me that she works at there now." That (infuriating) cheeky smirk was back.

"Who, Hermione?" Edmund asked, with incredulity, his voice raising several pitches above his usual baritone.

Lucy was not fooled, nor was Dagger. The jaguar made a sound, somewhere in the background, that sounded like a snort and Edmund had known Dagger for long enough to discern _exactly_ what this noise meant. Edmund cast his protector a betrayed glance.

"You couldn't be more obvious if you tried," Lucy commented, as she floated over to his bed and perched against the comforter.

The siblings shared a tense moment of glaring challengingly at each other.

"Why are you here Lucy?" Edmund questioned. He broke his gaze away from her and rubbed his forehead; his daily quota for Lucy's madness had reached its limit, any more and he would surely crack.

"Do you like her or not?"

Edmund sighed with besetment.

"She's a strange one, I'm just keeping an eye on her." Lucy gaped at him.

"Don't tell me that's your chat up line to the girls!" She cried, looking half amused and half aghast. Edmund glowered at her. "You're not normally like this." He raised an eyebrow. "You're not the one to take a fancy to someone without knowing them. And certainly not like Peter who prefers women who warm his bed at night - with no commitment ... so why her?"

Sometimes, Lucy was just far too astute for her own good.

"Just drop it Lucy. I promise you that if there is anything that you need to know, I will tell you." Edmund acquiesced, and as an afterthought, he added, "and don't let Peter hear you say that either. I don't know how you found out."

"I have eyes and ears everywhere, brother mine." Edmund grunted; he knew that there was more truth to that than he would like to admit. Lucy had a way with people, and whilst he used his words to trap people into a corner for information, Lucy just smiled and catered with an overabundance of kindness. His sister was a deadly force, for she, as someone so unassuming, disarmed opponents in a manner they would least suspect.

"It's a strange night," She said. Edmund cast her a bemused look, the shadow cast on her face told him that she didn't come into his room just to be a bother. He straightened in his chair.

"What do you mean?"

"Something doesn't feel ... right." Edmund rolled his eyes, Lucy always had a flair for being dramatic, and it was a quality that she and Peter shared.

"Okay, I think that probably is because you're up at a time of night you are not used to." Edmund mocked, his seriousness ebbing away.

"Charming Ed," she said as she stuck her tongue out at him. He snorted. "I would have gone to Peter if I knew that you were going to be such a sourpuss but you're the closest."

"We need to get you a different wing." Edmund deadpanned.

"I think you'd start to feel lonely if I wasn't nearby." Edmund agreed with her, but you'd have to run him through with a sword before he ever admitted that to Lucy. She would never let it go if she knew. But he had a feeling, as he spied her smile that she knew already. Lucy had a knack for that. Knowing things that she's not supposed to.

"Oh, are those the accounts?" She asked as she walked over to him and because she was the youngest (and someone who practically got away with everything) she plopped down into her brother's lap. Lucy ignored his groan and complaints about how heavy she was and focused on the pages with interest.

"Yeah, it is," Edmund, sighed tiredly, his hand ran over his face again and into his tousled hair.

"I know that I don't know much about numbers, but I'm pretty sure that it cannot possibly be ones and zeros on the page. That doesn't even make sense! Where does it start and where does it end?" Lucy voiced the same debate Edmund had been asking himself.

"You're telling me." He mumbled; there was a great deal of torment in his voice. Edmund had no doubt been trying to de-encrypt these pages all week, and was apparently getting nowhere with it.

"Whe-?"

"Shh!" Edmund suddenly said. Dagger was also abrupt in his movements; the jaguar was on his feet, looking alert and ready to pounce.

"What?" Lucy whispered, and then she heard it. It wasn't obvious, you really had to strain to hear the noise, but it was a plea for help.

" _Somebody, help me, please!_ " The voice cried in the distance.

"It's coming from the courtyard," Dagger said, his ears were more sensitive so he was able to identify which part of the castle it was travelling from.

Edmund hastened to his feet, Lucy watched as he haphazardly fastened his chainmail back on along with his sword.

"Stay here," he ordered Lucy with warning that Lucy knew better than to contest with. Edmund nodded at Dagger as an unspoken command to guard his sister.

The wooden door shut with a loud bang.

Lucy started speaking her prayers to Aslan, pleading for the soul whose cries for help grew louder and louder.

* * *

Hermione woke up to the sound of her screams echoing the room. She winced at the ear-piercingly deafening noise. Her hands clapped over her ears as she willed for the noise to decease, her magic, for some reason, recoiled at the sound, curling up into ball like a scared cat. She could feel her magic wanting to push out, to push away the source of the noise and that was when she realised it was not her screaming.

Her eyes snapped open, and she peered into the room, wondering what was causing the noise when suddenly, the door slammed open and the Kader brothers stumbled in with their sword poised for attack. Oliver stared wildly around the room, taking in Hermione's shaken expression before turning to the source.

It was Sally.

She was screaming like a banshee.

"Sally! Wake up!" Peter commanded, wincing in pain as she screamed louder when he moved closer.

Hermione scrambled out of her bed and moved closer to them, choosing to stand at the foot of Sally's bed, as any closer caused physical pain. Her magic curdled inside her, as though it was frightened, settling into a queasy mush at the pit of her stomach. It made her feel sick.

Tobias and Henry crashed through the room, slightly late to the party (but the only ones who had been smart enough to bring a couple of lanterns with them). Finally, some light shed into the pitch-black room.

"She is awake." Hermione breathed as she stared into Sally's unseeing eyes, her mouth still open in a never-ending scream. _'How is she breathing?_ '

"Someone wake her up!" Edward demanded, sounding just as disturbed and hysteric as the rest of them felt. Were it not for the dire situation, it would have been a comical sight seeing all of them standing around a bed with hands over their ears like children.

"No, don't!" Hermione went to prevent Derrick from doing more harm than good as he put a hand on Sally's shoulder and shook her wildly.

And suddenly, the screaming stopped.

Everything breathed a sigh of relief, unclamping their ears.

"Sally?" Hermione asked in a quiet voice, as not to startle the young girl.

They all jumped several feet in the air as Sally gasped loudly, taking in a large, deep, shuddering breath before she started to shake, collapsing in tears. Worried faces stared at the youngest, not knowing what to do, still disorientated and perplexed. They needn't have worried though as Sally spoke without them prompting.

"I saw-" she whispered, her voice bled with such horror and anguish that the frowns on their faces deepened.

"What did you see Sal?" Peter asked kindly, stroking her hair gently.

"Death. I saw death."

* * *

Hermione promptly threw up into the wastebasket.

Needless to say, none of them found that sleep that night - aside from Sally.

Derrick had somehow coerced her back to bed, and Edward stayed with her until he was sure that her night terrors would not be returning. He finally joined the group sitting in front of the open-hearth drinking cups of cocoa that Hermione had brewed to remove the acidic taste of vomit from her mouth.

Edward tiredly ran a hand over his face, weary from the events of the night like they all were.

"Thanks," he whispered to Hermione as she kindly handed him a mug full of the steaming beverage - one of her specialties (she refused to tell them the secret ingredient that she added to it to make it so irresistibly good). Hermione smiled, curling up on the couch next to him, placing her feet in Oliver's lap through a motion of familiarity that she had found amongst the Kader's.

"This happened before, hasn't it?" She questioned though it came out more like a statement.

They were curiously reticent. Hermione let a moment pass, opening her mouth to speak again when Peter beat her to it.

"Twice before," He confirmed.

Hermione's heart thudded, once had been quite an experience for her. She was still slightly shaken from it.

"When?"

"Curiosity killed the cat." Tobias said smartly from his seat, it was unusual to see him so serious. The brothers stared at him with confusion; the phrase was alien to them, before they chalked it off as him being quirky.

Hermione smirked but shrugged at him, unapologetic, before she turned her inquisitive eyes back to Peter.

Peter sighed, "there were two occurrences when we've heard Sally scream like that. The first time was when she was born and our mother ... passed away." Hermione winced. "Of course, everyone chalked that up to the babe having a connection with her mother…and knowing when that connection had been severed. No one thought much of it."

There was an uncomfortable silence in the room, not quite awkward but not pleasant either.

"And the second was just before our father passed away," Oliver said, his arm coming to rest on Hermione's shin.

Suddenly, Hermione felt intensely guilty for having asked. The occupants of the room were in a state of melancholy, each falling into their dark thoughts. Hermione finally had the peace of mind to think of her dream.

Aslan.

Her magic.

Her magic that had quite literally blanched at Sally's scream. Her magic had wanted to retaliate - to fight back as though Sally was a threat. Her magic had been threatened by Sally's scream. By a singular scream. But that scream was so loud, so piercing, and so unnatural, it couldn't have just been a night terror. Hermione recalled Sally's wide-open eyes; it was as though she had been in a trance. She was missing something. She knew that she had all the clues right in front of her. What was she missing? ' _Death. I saw death._ '

"Of course!" She muttered out loud, not believing that she hadn't caught on sooner.

Lost in her thoughts, she remained oblivious to the Kader men staring at her like she had completely lost the plot. But Hermione was too far absorbed in her thoughts to be aware.

A slight shift of the arm that Oliver had placed on her shin brought her back to reality. She realised, quite belatedly, that they were all gaping at her.

"Sorry," she said meekly. She was met with bemused gazes and arched eyebrows.

"A Lion for your thoughts?"

"No, no ... I just, - need some rest. Night!" Hermione rushed off upstairs, eager to find the wand that she had tucked away and her bag where she knew she had packed away the book of Fantastic Beasts and where to find them. The six men stared completely baffled at the staircase.

"Gals are weird," Henry muttered.

"Here, here." The brothers echoed.

* * *

Edmund ran, as fast as he could, towards the courtyard from where Dagger believed the shouts were coming from. Caught up in his momentum, he failed to see Peter and Caspian arriving from the North and East chambers respectively. The three Kings collided in their haste and landed unceremoniously on their arses. The men looked over each other, their postures relaxed slightly when they realised that neither one were in danger.

"You heard it too?" Edmund asked rhetorically.

"Susan?" Peter questioned Caspian (who shared the same wing).

"She's safe in her room, wasn't too pleased when I knocked to wake her up."

Edmund snorted, not believing that _that_ was Susan's reaction to seeing Caspian. He was not naive enough to believe that Susan and Caspian were above midnight trysts. Especially when they shared the same wing with no one else near their vicinity.

"Lucy was with me, I left her with Dagger," Edmund said before Peter asked.

"Well, we better go and see." Peter said, as he theatrically pulled out his sword before making his way. Edmund and Caspian shared a look of fond exasperation as they, with less grandeur, pulled out their own swords.

"Don't suppose it was just one of the guards messing about, do you?" Caspian whispered as they neared the courtyard.

"If it were, they're in for a real treat during training tomorrow," Edmund said, gritting his teeth.

"I'm certain that it isn't," Peter said gravely as they found themselves on the edge of a crowd.

The Kings pushed through the mass of palace guards, dignitaries and Lords who had created a circle around whatever was in the middle. People quickly began to realise that their Kings had arrived so they stepped out of the way to let them pass, but were evidently too shocked to remember to bow down to them. Which Peter, Caspian and Edmund appreciated, as now was not the time to be exchanging pleasantries.

Though nothing could have prepared them for the horrific sight they found.

It was Count Edgware who they had heard begging, and he certainly won't be able to do so anymore. In the middle of the courtyard, lay the man's unmoving body. Blood was pooling around him, his throat had been slashed and there was a dagger sticking out of his vocal cord for added effect.

"There's a note stuck to it." Edmund rasped; his voice tinged with the queasiness he was feeling.

Peter bravely stepped forward, cringing he pulled the dagger out of the man's throat. The squelching sound it made had some foreign dignitaries dry heaving somewhere in the crowd. Those who were faint-hearted looked away. Peter picked up the parchment that was soaked in blood, only just able to read out the words printed on it.

" **You have been warned**." Peter read, his voice carried over the courtyard, echoing in the silent chamber.

Everyone held their breaths. A fool could see that it was a clear threat.

Caspian moved forward and looked into the dead man's eyes with compassion, what a terrible end to his life. Count Edgware had been a gentle family man; he had a wife and two daughters. Leaning down, Caspian offered him the only respect he could and closed his eyelids.

"Rest in peace. May Aslan carry your soul to a better place," Caspian prayed. Everyone bowed their heads in a moment of respect, some muttering prayers of their own.

"The castle is in lockdown," Peter ordered, breaking the silence. "No one is to leave. This was a cold-blooded murder and the culprit **will** be caught and _punished_." Fury dripped from his voice. Edmund shivered.

The High King was angry, and that in itself sent fear down the spines of all those present.

.

.

.

* * *

 **A.N./** Thank you once again, to my loyal reviewers. You guys are the best, and this story would not be surviving without you as I would not have the encouragement to continue writing without your support.

So, thanks, once again to: Royal Lemur, twztdwildcat and Comic Critic. [Your reward: (.;) ]

I hope you guys are excited about the next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

**Moments in Time**

 **Disclaimer:** Copyright J.K. Rowling & C.S. Lewis

* * *

 **VI:** Warriors

or

"A person's actions will tell you everything you need to know."

* * *

Edmund's life consisted of a series of unlikely events (like stepping through a wardrobe and becoming a King of another world, for instance). Aside from his uncanny habit of surviving things which were widely considered fatal - the White Witch's sword (he, by all means of reality, should be dead had it not been for Lucy's magical cordial), the Giants of Estimoor and dozens and dozens of wars - his life was nothing but predictable. So whilst Edmund endured these unstable moments in his life without as much of a word of complaint (even the blithering Ladies of the Court), he never truly grasped the art of patience one must have to survive these instances. Currently, he could feel the small magnitude of that asset running very thin, very fast.

"It's quite a simple question Lord Berthing, could you please recount your whereabouts in the last couple hours?" Edmund said, the vein above his forehead twitched. His cheeks had turned slightly rosy due to his increasing blood pressure and decreasing tolerance.

"... Well, I, uh ... I'm not quite sure, Sire. Let's see, uh, earlier this evening I was having dinner on the balcony with Lady Gwen and then we, uh, danced for a while by the pool - or was it in the garden? Dear me, I can't quite remember. ... I wasn't paying attention to the _scenery_ per say - not the _landscape_ , anyway, if you catch my drift..." The man wheezed.

Edmund pinched the bridge of his nose and peered at the middle-aged man over his fingers. Aslan give him strength.

"…So, you were not near the courtyard?"

"No, no. We were ... in the South Wing ... we would have stayed there too- (all night)..., had we not heard those awful screams ... I was expecting to hear a very different type of scream tonight as well - from Lady Gwen that is ... such a shame. All my efforts have gone to waste..." Edmund scowled at the man's lack of tact.

"Right. Thank you. You information has been _most_ useful." Edmund said insincerely with a strained smile as he cut the man off before he became too detailed with his transgressions. The bumbling man fumbled with his hat as he bowed to his King. "Next!" Edmund called; the exertion in his voice was palpable and the tension in his neck was as taut as a tight rope.

Edmund thought that it was amusing how Lords (often consumed with fear about being questioned by their Kings) forgot to hold their tongue and unknowingly divulged information they otherwise would not have uttered. In any other scenario, Edmund was positive that Lord Berthing would not have been so forthcoming about his ... folly.

This was, no doubt, going to be a long night for him. He looked over to the easternmost corner where Peter was huddled with their most trusted generals, discussing which night guard had been in near vicinity to the courtyard during their patrol. Patrols around Cair Paravel were always carried out in twos; so it was an easy job, as everyone should, without a doubt, have an alibi. Most of the knights in their army were handpicked for their excellence in both character and swordistry. Edmund did not believe that they would not be the perpetrators of this heinous crime. Edmund envied Peter in that moment.

He, however, did not envy Caspian, for had the worst job of them all - he had been saddled with the Ladies of the Court. Edmund grimaced with sympathy as he looked upon the man who was dealing with women who were fawning around him, reaping his misplaced empathy. Though, better him than them. It was well known in Narnia that Queen Susan the Gentle and King Caspian X were courting. So any affection the women threw at him would be done with the knowledge that they had little to no chance as everyone paled in comparison to the beautiful Queen. But Edmund and Peter were open season and whilst Peter didn't mind the attention too much; Edmund detested it.

"Permission to speak, Sire?" The Knight Mouse, Reepicheep, requested as he somersaulted through the air from the drapes and landed in front of Edmund.

"As ever you would need it," Edmund replied, smirking at the Mouse who always had an opinion on the matter. Edmund nodded his dismissal to the Lord he had been speaking to, turning his full attention onto the loyal Narnian.

"I may be misspeaking Sire ... but I believe that none of the driveling Telmarines gathered here are capable of such dishonour." Repicheep condescended, his whiskers twitching wildly.

Edmund felt a couple of Lords standing at hearing distance bristled at the insult. Wisely, Edmund motioned for Reepicheep to follow him to a more private alcove.

"Do you have intel?" Edmund asked as he bent down as close as he could to the Mouse's height.

"Your Highness will have to beg my pardon, as you see, I had my pack scattered around the room, listening for anything of use. I can confidently say that Your Majesty will not be able to find his culprit here." Edmund looked skywards, and suddenly noted the gathering of Mice running from corner to corner, hanging from draping and beams, slyly eavesdropping into private conversations.

Edmund smirked; his spies were so well trained.

"No, need to apologise, Reep. After all, this is what I hired you for." Edmund said, sharing a secretive smile with his Knight.

It wasn't a well-known fact that Edmund had an army of spies; in fact the only ones who were privy to this information were the other monarchs. The Mice were the best of his intel, for they could squeeze into small corners where others couldn't and find out all the dirty, juicy secrets from around the palace; Dagger and his Wolfpack ran their cartel around town and deep into the woods, the Wolves surprisingly had a knack for blending in and the Crows charmed the skies; using their bird's eye view to catch out anything suspicious.

"Quite, Sire. May I suggest that his Majesty is best put to use his resources towards patrols in the woods tonight? If one were to commit such a crime, one would try to hide the evidence - more appropriately, the murder weapon. A knife in the throat was not all that killed the Count. Those gashes on the skin … it looked animalistic, don't you think? What better place hide things than in the woods where no one trespasses?"

"Intuitive thinking Reep! Thank you," Edmund dismissed. The Mouse ran back up the scaffolding again, joining his comrades high up in the air.

"Caspian, a word?" Edmund said, wincing a smile at the ladies who had suddenly stopped talking and turned their attention towards him in unison like a coven of witches waiting to entrance their prey. Edmund shuddered before he grasped the older King by the elbow and pulled him aside.

"Thank you for that." Caspian sighed with palpable relief, the King looked slight hot under the collar. Edmund couldn't blame him, it was late, he was tired and the last thing he wanted to be doing was questioning a round of noblemen, noblewomen and guards about their whereabouts this night. "I'm having absolutely no luck. All I managed to gather was that Lady Grace and Lord Berthing nearly ... well... have _you_ any luck?" Edmund shared a knowing grimace with Caspian.

"Nothing," Edmund admitted, sounding as defeated as Caspian felt. "We're wasting our time here, for all we know, the culprit could have breached our walls and making their merry escape right now. Good Knight Reep suggested that sending patrols into the woods, I say it's a splendid idea. Who's to say that the culprit is still within the castle walls? Gather our best knights Caspian, we're going for a ride."

* * *

" _Lumos_!" Hermione cast a spell. Brilliant white light leaked out of her wand and flooded the dark woods like a beacon. "Ha-ha!" She laughed with glee. She couldn't believe it! Her dream had been real! Aslan had gifted her with a wand. She twirled on the spot for a moment of absolute satisfaction. She then turned to her bag. Sticking her arm deep inside, she fished for books. One by one, she picked out items, Ron's Deluminator (her heart clenched tightly), a vial of dittany, _Defense Against the Dark Arts Volume VI_ , and finally, by luck, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. Sticking everything else back into the bag, she used the tip of her wand to shed some light on the book.

With the practiced ease of well-researched know-how, Hermione flicked through the book, landing on the page that she suspected would give her all the answers. She skim read the passage expertly as she looked for the specific words that would prove her hunch.

 _'In legends, a banshee was a fairy woman who begins to_ _ **wail**_ _if someone was about to_ _ **die**_ _. They were usually seen as_ _ **an omen of**_ _ **death**_ _and_ _ **a messenger**_ _from another world._

A banshee.

Sally was a banshee.

Hermione knew that she was right. The book backed up her intuitive guess but she needed more proof. With all but a scream and a nightmare to go on, she was in no position to corner Sally and call her out as a mythical creature. Hermione was sure that it was unheard of in Narnia. It may even be associated with sorcery and that would be no good for any of them.

A cold breeze slipped through the air and she shivered.

She knew that she really shouldn't be out in the woods alone; but Hermione Granger, the scholar, had to test out her theory in private. And everyone knew that when Hermione Granger had research to do, there was no reasoning with her.

Besides, for a girl who had faced a troll when she was twelve; who had solved the challenges set by Professors of Hogwarts to help Harry stop Quirrell; who had solved that a Basilisk that was the monster of Slytherin; who had fearlessly used her time-turner to outwit a werewolf and save an endangered animal and supposed dangerous murderer; who stood by her best friend as he fought his way through the trials of the Tri-Wizard Tournament; who had created a rebellion against a Ministry employee who tried to take over Hogwarts; who had bravely fought Death Eaters at the Department of Mysteries; who had fought in the First (and Second) Battle of Hogwarts; who had given up her parents and her education (which she had, at one point in her life, deemed more important than death) to go on a quest to find Horcruxes with her best friends - with no real lead to begin with; and for a girl who had since then endured so much pain, physically and emotionally ... the threat of a _common thug_ in the woods of Narnia sounded like child's play.

So here she was, in the middle of the night, deep in the Western Woods, reading a book. Ron and Harry would howl with glee if they knew. They would not let her live down how far she was be willing to go to read a book in private. She had, quite literally, climbed out of the large window by her bedside once she was sure that the Kader men were either asleep or going about their own business.

Having confirmed her initial theory and concluding that she needed to gather more substantiation; she decided to trial the strength of her new wand. This, she reasoned, was perhaps the only time she could practice and train without the risk of being discovered. Hermione conjured some bluebell flames and set them on the ground, illuminating the area around her providing more obscure cover than a bright white light radar that _'Lumos'_ produced.

' _There_ ,' she thought with satisfaction as she transfigured a decently sized log into a dummy, akin to the ones they practiced with at Hogwarts. Now she could really get to work.

In a subsequent quick-fire of spells, Hermione attacked the unassuming, immobile dummy she'd transfigured out of a log. " _Incarcerous! ... Levicorpus! ... Relashio! ... Stupefy! ... Expeliarmus! Petrificus Totalus! Confringo! Bombarda!"_ Hermione gasped and hit the ground as the dummy exploded and rained down with wooden splinters around her. She pulled herself up into sitting position and gazed at the position where the dummy had been with longing.

She missed her friends. She missed Hogwarts. She missed simplicity that had come with school life. Sure, it hadn't all been rainbows and daisies, but more like mass murderers and an evil overlord trying to kill Harry every year; but it had been home, it had been her family. Attacking a conjured practice dummy wasn't the same as battling one that the Room of Requirements provided, one that was mobile, that was slightly more threatening and posed a challenge. To be surrounded by Dumbledore's Army, side by side, fighting for a better future...

Sniffing and wiping a lone tear with slight aggression, Hermione sighed. It would not do her well to sit around and mope, she needed to move past her old life and create a new one here. Harry and Ron were not around anymore, she needed to move on. Hermione thought about the Kader family, how kind they had been to her, taking her in as if she was one of their own. Using that memory, she pulled herself up to full height and chanted:

" _Expecto Patronum_." Thin wisps of silvery light flew from her wand, but it was incorporeal. Strengthening her thoughts Hermione thought of how proud Harry and Ron would be to see her fight for a new cause, of them in the Gryffindor common room, drinking looted Butterbeer (that Harry and Ron had talked her into having, despite her heavy disapproval), having a laugh with Ginny about the rumours of Harry's hippogriff tattoo...

" _EXPECTO PATRONUM!_ " She tried again, using the feeling of happiness rather than just a memory as Harry had taught her. Hermione smiled as an animal leaped out of her wand. She gasped when it turned around to look at her. It wasn't an otter, no her guardian had changed. In front of her was the outline of a Lion, Aslan. Hermione grinned as she walked closer, her Patronus didn't have the same warmth that the real Aslan exuded, but she felt protected nonetheless. She stroked the outline of her Patronus, but the guardian was not looking at her. It was looking past her.

Hermione turned around and found the object that had caught her Patronus' attention.

All colour drained from her face.

* * *

Edmund couldn't help the smile that formed on his face as he rode his horse. Riding was his favourite pastime, aside from dueling that was. The way the wind whipped against his face, the smell that overloaded his senses from the surrounding woods - it was as addictive as a drug. Caspian drew up close behind him, not quite able to keep up with Edmund's pace; and had they just been on a leisure ride, Edmund would have taunted him and challenged him - but now was not the time. Sure, riding a dumb beast was not the same as riding Phillip - oh how he missed his friend - but the thrill of a chase had yet to leave Edmund. It was exhilarating.

"See anything?" Caspian asked from behind.

"No!" Edmund called back. The Just King had the best sense of sight around this part of the woods; after all, it legally belonged to him and during the Golden Ages of Narnia. Edmund knew every nook and cranny and ever since he returned, he had been making an effort to familiarise himself with his land that had, not surprisingly, changed over the last millennia.

"Sire, we see something ahead!" Crash the Crow harped from above; he circled back around with his flock. "By th' mane and bless m' wings! Is that Aslan?"

"Wait!" Edmund suddenly said, leaning back on his saddle, pulling on the reins as he slowed down his steed. Dagger and his pack, who had been slightly ahead of them, had stopped.

"What's going on?" Caspian asked Eloy, his protector, who was the Beta in Dagger's pack. The wolves, for some reason, looked afraid and apprehensive. Something both Kings had never witnessed before in their guardians.

"There's something in the woods." Eloy barked to his King.

"It smells of death," Dagger said forebodingly.

"But they say it's Aslan," Caspian spoke with confusion.

The wolves' ears twitched in unison, standing upright.

"What do you hear?" Edmund asked, swiftly dismounting his horse and pulling out both of his finest swords. Caspian and their Knights quickly followed suit.

"Footsteps." Dagger growled, bowing into a defensive position, preparing to jump onto whatever was heading their way. Edmund gripped tighter onto his swords, his knuckles turned white with anticipation. Edmund and Caspian walked in front of their subjects, ready to draw first blood as finally the sound of footsteps fell on their human ears. The Crows flew ahead, trying to catch sight of what was headed in their direction.

Edmund frowned at the speed at which the footsteps were falling; something extremely fast was coming towards them.

* * *

A twig snapped under her foot and shattered the eerie silence.

Hermione froze, her heart pounding violently in her chest and ears. Her breath hitched as she stared at the monster front of her. Her Patronus disappeared in wisps of silvery light, having done its job of alerting her of the danger.

The monster, at first glance she'd believed, was Fluffy – the three-headed-dog, but that was before she'd spotted that the second and third heads that closely resembled a dragon's and goat's. The enormous mound of spikes and horns began to unfurl as the beast lifted its considerable mass into the air on four powerful feline limbs. It arched its back and stretched. Bulging muscles quivered and slid back and forth beneath the translucent decaying skin. Two gigantic leathery wings, ribbed with long clawed digits, extended in a show of power, blocking out what little light of the cold grey sky remained. The beast turned in the direction of the sound and six blazing eyes locked onto her, chilling her soul.

A small gasp escaped her lips as she instinctively began to stagger backwards in a blind panic. Her body grew numb and her legs buckled like jelly. The left outer head was reptilian, covered with scales and bony plates, reminding her of the Hungarian Horntail. Thick sharp horns adorned both heads, and the jaws were filled with uniform hooked teeth, perfect for shearing and tearing. These were heads of brute force and mindless animal blood lust. But the centre head was the one that filled her with the most terror. Cold, calculating blood-red eyes betraying a deep intelligence within; and for a moment she felt as though she was staring straight at Voldemort, but it couldn't be ...

The outer heads hissed and snarled with animal frenzy, the mammalian one let out a deep, low growling rumble, not of instinct, but of raw emotion.

The beast took a few casual steps forwards, padding silently on the muddy ground. It paused, raising all three heads and sniffed the air. The outer heads snapped with fury and frustration but were somehow held back by the snarling middle head.

Cautiously, on wobbly feet, she took slow steps back, one by one, as she attempted to create distance from the creature. It was smiling sinisterly at her. Fear clutched her heart. She was wrong. She hadn't faced the worst horrors at Hogwarts. This was worse; much worse, Fluffy seemed like a commonly trained housedog compared to this beast.

It was crippling fear that stole the scream that so desperately wanted to escape her throat.

The monster crept closer, menacingly following her step for step, and so Hermione did what any sane person would do: she turned around and ran.

Blood pounded in her ears, growing louder and faster as though it was palpitating to the beat of a drum.

Every step she took thundered loudly in her ears. The snap of the twigs underneath her feet seemed like a clash of thunder. The swoosh of the wind against her face felt like as harsh as the winter weather. Tears, caused by the whipping wind or perhaps from her undulated terror, ran down her cheeks.

Through all these effects, the woods remained silent and suddenly, she found herself back in the woods with Harry and Ron running away from Snatchers.

Without looking back and with the precision of a trained Auror, Hermione cast some non-verbal spells, instinctually knowing that they would meet their target. Her pace, however, did not slow. She glanced over her shoulder to confirm that it had hit her mark, but all she could see was darkness. Glinting red eyes that belonged to the beast was not present. A thrill of adrenaline passed through her, and a small grace of victory filled her. She had managed to outrun it. And then, just as swiftly, the smile disappeared. How _could_ she have outrun the beast? With its mass and wings, it should have caught her the second she started her escape. Her pace stuttered and dread slowly started to creep in. She turned back around and shrieked as something attacked her from the side.

Hermione coughed and wheezed as the wind left her lungs, leaving her feeling breathless. But even that was the least of her worries as she blinked away the disorientated tears in her eyes; fearing the crimson eyes that she would be staring into.

...They were calculating grey.

* * *

Hermione inhaled sharply. This was no monster, it was a wolf – and it looked ready to eat her. Could this night get any worse?

"You, girl!" The Wolf spoke.

Hermione blinked blearily at it, all rational thoughts having left her. That's right. She was in Narnia … where the animals could talk. It would have been wrong for her to roll her eyes at what a parody her life was at that moment, so she controlled her urge.

"Let me handle her," someone commanded from the shadows. The voice was gruff, deep and sounded human; but in Narnia you never knew what you would run into as Hermione was having the misfortune of finding out tonight. However, the voice did sound familiar.

The Wolf seemed to listen to whoever it was and all of a sudden Hermione found herself being hoisted through the air, being tugged painfully by the elbow before being thrust against the trunk of a tree. She would have moved and fought back had she not found a sharp sword against her neck. She eyed it wearily before looking at the owner.

The instant she looked into the familiar pair of paler grey eyes, that were catching the moonlight reflection off the sword, Hermione knew who her captor was. The Just King growled at her, baring his teeth menacingly, imitating his pet wolf, - which seemed extremely intimidating under the moon's glare.

"King Edmund," she gasped, straining her neck away from the sharp sword.

The King faltered slightly in his stance as he realised who he was dealing with, he blinked owlishly once, twice and then:

"Miss Granger?" He asked with recognition, though his grip on his sword tightened warningly, letting her know that she was still in danger.

"Edmund, you know her?" Caspian said from beside him, not connecting Hermione's last name to the girl who he had met a couple weeks back.

"What are you doing here?" He snarled; distrust flooding through his voice, his sword was a hair's breath away from making an incision on her skin.

"We need to get out of here!" Hermione tried to warn, not answering his question. There was no time!

"Don't evade the question. Were you the one in the castle tonight?" He interrogated.

"No, you need to understand, we really need to leave!" Hermione tried again, the desperation in her voice grew by the second.

"My Lord, I ... I can bare witness to the fact that Hermione was not in the castle this evening. She was with my family, at home." Hermione, restricted by the sword, could not turn her head to see her rescuer but she recognised the voice.

"Oliver!" She gasped.

"... But as for what she is going here - I cannot tell you." There was a hard inflection in his tone and Hermione winced, knowing that she was in trouble for disobeying house rules.

"I - you - _we need to leave_!"

"You keep repeating that, but you haven't explained why," Edmund said though his sword had moved away from her neck. At least she was no longer in danger of being decapitated ... only the threat of a three-headed monster remained.

"Because-"

"Sire!"

Edmund and Hermione turned. Edmund paled considerably; which was a mean feat - as the King, though slightly olive by the Narnian summer was still as pale as the moon in comparison to other Telmarines. Hermione picked up her discarded wand from the ground and hid it in her sleeve with the dexterity and sleight-of-hand a muggle magician would be proud of.

"Because of that." She deadpanned.

" _Jadis' saggy tits,_ " Edmund muttered under his breath. Hermione used to reacting to Harry's and Ron's swears, cast him a look of disapproval.

"Ed-" Caspian said, as he stepped away from the beast with apprehension. "Please tell me that this is one of yours." Edmund was known amongst his fellow monarchs for hiring the deadliest and usually considered _dark_ Animals as his agents.

"I'm afraid that I can't, Caspian," was the weak reply. Their eyes widened comically as the dragon opened its mouth. " _Oh, hell._ "

Edmund grabbed Hermione and threw her underneath him as they all dove for cover when the dragonhead breathed fire. Their chests brushed against one another's as they heaved for air that had been winded from their lungs. Hermione blushed as she found herself flushed against her King's body. Her breasts brushed against his cold chainmail but his warmth seeped through her thin clothes.

"Thanks," she whispered as she looked into his obsidian eyes. She frowned; she could have sworn that they had been a pale grey shade a moment ago. The King nodded, his expression was guarded and incomprehensible as he rolled himself off her and pulled her up with him.

"Stay behind this tree," he ordered as he pointed to the large oak tree that he had held her up against earlier.

"I can take care of myself," She replied haughtily, refusing to follow an order.

There was, perhaps, a time when Hermione blindly followed the words of those who were stationed above her with powers of the authority; but that was before Umbridge. She, like many other young adults, grew in character, knowing her strengths and weaknesses and knew what her limits were. She would be damned if she sat behind a tree like a damsel in distress. She was a Gryffindor, through and through, bravery was practically ingrained into every fiber of her being – that, and Harry's terrible influence on her.

"You don't have a sword," he growled at her, annoyed. She found herself pleasantly surprised that he had not used the time old excuse of ' _you're a girl_ ', she was pretty sure that she would have smacked him hard if he had.

"Then, give me one of yours," she stated, not backing down, eyeing the two nearly identical swords in his hand. He looked at her with surprise and Hermione belatedly realised that it probably wasn't proper to ask a King to part with his effects. 'I-" she started backtracking; but, surprisingly, he wordlessly handed her his sword, the one that thankfully had a guard she could slip her fingers into for a firmer hold. His fingers remained clasped over hers for longer than they should have been and she found herself to be the one who was stunned. He looked at her and for a moment it looked as though he was finally starting to understand her; though his expression, was otherwise, extremely circumspect. But then he smirked and when his fingers let hers go, as her arm dropped the heavy sword dragged on the ground. She responded by standing taller, proudly sticking her nose in the air.

"Stay behind me and don't draw attention to yourself." He directed, a hint of a smirk still remained, but she found herself nodding along anyway. She mentally rolled her eyes; swords would not even scratch the dragon's hide. It was why the material was used for the best Quidditch and Dueling gear. As soon as he turned away, she puller out her wand and swiftly muttered a feather-light charm on the sword.

Hidden behind the King's towering frame, Hermione had the opportunity to filter her thoughts. What creature were they dealing with? Its DNA was most curious; Hermione had never heard of a mutant with a lion, goat and dragon head. Dragons were sensitive to loud noises and spells. Hermione remembered seeing the handlers tame the Hungarian Horntail after Harry's First Task. They had attacked it with a flurry of offensive spells that would normally tear apart any other target. She then remembered the white dragon at Gringotts, it had been scared into flight with a simple ' _Bombarda_ '. But how was she to cast without alerting those around her? And what of the lion and goat? Think, Hermione, _think_.

* * *

"Was this the Aslan you saw?" Edmund berated his spy, as he ducked from another blaze of fire. The Crow cawed in an apology from above. "Go! Get out of here before it decides to have to for late dinner." Edmund told the small birds, his worry shining through his exasperation.

"We will alert the High King, Your Majesty." Crash squawked as he flew away.

"Edmund, this is futile," Caspian said, as he joined him and Hermione, taking cover behind a tree. "We won't be able to get close enough to make a strike!"

"You need a distraction," Hermione whispered, before repeating herself slightly louder. Hadn't that been how Harry had beaten the basilisk?

"I will not be risking one of my men as bait." Edmund hissed, though silently acknowledged that it might be their only choice. He considered her idea, it was a good suggestion but what was the best way to execute it...?

"Then let me."

Edmund made a grab for her, but being the lithe little thing she was, she dodged and ran towards the beast.

"Has she no sense of self-preservation?" Caspian gaped with disquiet as he peered around the tree, knowing that the girl was as good as dead.

Edmund glowered furiously and stepped out from behind the tree, running in her direction and frowning as he watched her wave his sword around like a hand fan (which was remarkable considering it was made of solid Dwarf Steel), trying to capture the monster's attention.

"Edmund!" Caspian called out with concern, realising too late that his shout was deadly. The beast turned away from attacking a few knights and towards Edmund and Hermione, who were suddenly and unanticipatedly trapped in the clearing with no place to hide.

The King and Witch stilled.

Hermione screamed as a sweep of fire caught her side. Edmund was immediately beside her, using his shield to deflect the rest of the flames. But that had been enough of a distraction, for Oliver had used this opportunity to jump from the tree that he had climbed and onto the beast's back. He attacked the lion's eyes, gauging his sword into the bloody depths of its sockets. The animal howled, now blinded in one eye and then the other. Caspian immediately followed suit, swinging from a vine and found himself atop the goat; soon, the second head was blinded. The beast thrashed around, the last head flailed, throwing short bursts of flames in all directions, trying to throw Caspian and Oliver off its back. The other Knights and Animals joined in the pursuit, now attacking the right side of the blinded beast with reckless abandon whilst Caspian struggled to reach the third head.

Edmund looked down at the whimpering girl beside him, and a fire grew in his eyes. He picked up his abandoned swords and stalked towards the monster with purpose. (It would only be later, as he sat in the confines of his solar, that Edmund would wonder why, in that moment, had his second best sword had felt as light as a feather.) Just as Caspian blinded the third head, Edmund spun fiercely and cast the fatal blow piercing into the monster's heart with a roar. In his fervour, he and everyone else missed the small, but powerful, ball of red light that hurtled towards the beast's heart at the same time. The animal let out a scream and disintegrated with a puff of black smoke. Caspian and Oliver let out a yelp as they hurtled towards the ground; the Wolf pack flattened themselves against the ground to break their fall.

"Sorcery," Dagger growled from beside him, looking at the spot where the large footprints of the beast remained as the only evidence of its existence. Edmund frowned darkly. What in Aslan's mane was going on in Narnia?

He turned his head, and remembered about Hermione, he met her eyes and walked back towards her.

"That was a foolish thing to do!" Edmund berated as he knelt beside her.

"But it worked," she wheezed, coughing as she rested her head back on the ground, a small smile forming on her face despite the pain.

"Yes, I suppose it did." Edmund spared a smile. Hermione latently thought how nice he looked with a smile. It brightened his face, making him seem more youthful.

"Hermione!" Oliver and Derrick were by her side now. "What in Aslan's name were you thinking?" They asked together, eerily mimicking their twin brothers.

"She wasn't," Caspian replied as he joined the group. "Best we get her back to the castle, Ed. That needs to be looked at by a healer." Caspian nodded towards the bleeding gash on Hermione's side where the fire had burned through her clothes and scorched her skin.

"She'll ride with me," Edmund said, with a no-nonsense tone. Oliver and Derrick looked at him with surprise. "Can you stand?" He asked Hermione, ignoring the look he was receiving from Caspian.

Hermione nodded, letting out a small gasp of pain as she took Oliver's outstretched hand, pulling herself up. She winced, as she leant into Oliver's hold, her side was agonisingly tender.

The King stood by his horse, holding onto the stirrups to help Hermione onto the horse but the brunette witch simply walked past him, slipping her foot into the stirrup and threw her leg over the animal with practiced ease. She'd had horse riding lessons as a young girl; that was one of the most privileged parts of her upbringing before Hogwarts. Hermione remained oblivious to the stunned looks she received from the men around her as her eyes were closed in pain. Caspian shot Edmund an amused smile as the King lowered his raised eyebrow before he hoisted himself up to sit in front of her.

The other riders followed suit, feeling lethargic and fragmented as they prepared for the ride home, just as the sun was coming up.

Edmund snapped his reins against the horse and they were off.

Hermione, who had been struggling to keep her eyes open, was taken back by the speed at which the King took pace, she gripped his waist out of fear of falling off. She remained incognizant to the sudden tenseness in the King's body throughout then entire journey.

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* * *

 **A.N./** _Wow!_ You guys are amazing! I had five reviews for the last chapter so thank you to my stars:  Royal Lemur, AliceinWonderland13, LiTori, Comic Critic and Utrix. Thank you so much, also, to all of those people who have Followed and Favourited my story so far! You guys are the best. :)

I hope you all are enjoying the pace of this story and the direction it is headed in. Let me know if any of you have any ideas on what might be happening in Narnia right now ... I wonder if someone has a theory that matches my plot ...


	7. Chapter 7

**Moments in Time**

 **Disclaimer:** Copyright J.K. Rowling & C.S. Lewis

* * *

 **VII:** Conversations

or

"Too many walls and not enough bridges."

* * *

"I say, Lucy, Edmund seems particularly ... _attentive_ ... over Miss _Granger_ don't you think?" Susan Pevensie asked her younger sister as they sipped on their late morning tea. Susan's mind was still on the events of the courtroom.

Lucy frowned over her cup. She pulled her rose-stained lips away from the bone china and looked at her sister with confusion. Both Queens were clad in their finest robes for the monarchs of Calormen and Archenland were due for a weeklong visit today. Susan was wearing a royal blue gown, encrusted with glimmering crystals and flowing tulle that created the perfect silhouette of her sister's thin hourglass figure; off the shoulder of her dress formed a cape made of tulle that made Susan look like someone who had stepped out of a fairytale book. Susan's hair had been braided from both fronts and tied into a ponytail over her left shoulder; where her long curls cascaded over her bosom; atop which sat Susan's golden crown. Her eyes had been lined with charcoal Kohl, which only made the icy irises more piercing. Susan had completed her look with a pop of rosy blush and glossy rouge on her lips. Once again, Lucy found herself among the line of women who were jealous of Susan's effortless beauty.

Now Lucy was no troll. Though she had no hourglass figure and striking features, she was still a pretty girl. Lucy was in a peach gown made of a similar material to Susan's completed with a tulle skirt and matching cape that cascaded from the seam of the dress on her shoulders. Her hair, though having been forced into a braided up-do encircling her silver crown, was loose; soft tendrils fell out of the hold in small curled wisps around the nape of her neck. She too, sparingly, though, wore makeup around her eyes, highlighting the bright blue hues and had rose-stained lips, but it was her spirit that shone brighter. However, when one, even as pretty as Lucy, stood beside Susan; they couldn't help but feel pale in comparison.

"Whatever do you mean?" The conversations carried by the ladies-in-waiting surrounding them fell quieter; as the women strained their ears to hear better.

Susan fought the urge to roll her eyes.

"I have just never seen him so _implicated_ with another woman before..." Susan shrugged nonchalantly, even though both sisters knew that she was feeling anything but nonchalance.

The silence in the gazebo was deafening. The buzz around Cair Paravel had not been as colourful as this in a long while. Lady Gwen and Lord Berthings almost coupling sounded humdrum in comparison to the love life of the youngest King of Narnia.

"Well, I mean _Edmund_ is no _Peter_ ," Lucy stressed, smirking behind her cup as several of the ladies blushed, remembering their encounters with the High King, "but I think it's sweet."

" _Sweet?_ " Susan questioned failing to disguise her grimace.

"Yes! Don't you think so? Oh! I have been waiting so long for one of them to bring in a woman into our group. It's been getting terribly boring with the same people." Lucy commented offhandedly; secretly taking a vindictive pleasure in the affronted looks on her ladies' faces.

Lucy was not a horrible person, but her ladies-in-waiting annoyed her to wits end. She didn't even know why she needed to have ladies-in-waiting, but the Lords of the Court practically insisted on it. Edmund and Lucy were convinced that the reason behind it was so that they had spies closer to the monarchs in the most inconspicuous roles. But that had been before they had met the so-called agents. It would be an insult to Edmund's secret service if these ladies were called as such.

"I don't think that the barmaid will be becoming one of us soon," Susan said, with slight acidity.

"You don't like her," Lucy stated with a frown, rather than questioning her sister. "Why?" Her question was tinged with genuine wonder.

"Something strikes me as off with her. I just don't think that we should trust her." Susan said as only as though she was commenting on the weather. Lucy bit down on her lip as her sister popped a piece of cake into her mouth. She loved her older sister; she really did, but sometimes Susan was just as bad as her ladies-in-waiting. Sometimes Lucy wondered if her sister was a lot more different in this Narnia than during their Golden Era. The gentleness in Susan's title seemed to be just that - a title. Her sister was becoming jaded and judgemental, and Lucy had no doubt that it was the influence of Susan's ladies-in-waiting, Selene, and Emerald. Lucy glowered at the two smirking woman who had previously attempted to woo the Just King.

"That's a hefty claim against someone you had a conversation with for less than a minute," Lucy said acerbically.

Susan didn't reply; she sipped on her tea silently. But Lucy didn't miss the look her sister shared with Selene and Emerald. As though she was silently telling them; 'my younger sister is so naive'.

"And anyway, if Edmund is taken with her, I doubt that he would listen to your concerns. You know how stubborn he is, and if he wants something ... he _always_ gets it. This time, Su, I don't think your opinion will matter as much to him." There wasn't spite in Lucy's tone, just pure facts.

Lucy had seen the emotions play across her brother's face as he rushed into the infirmary. She had never seen him look so concerned over someone who was not in their immediate family. There was no doubt in the fact that Hermione Granger was an attractive young girl either. She was beautiful, but there was something unique about her that made her stand out from all the other faces in Narnia. Though Lucy could not figure out the quality that made her so different. But she was interested in becoming the girl's friend. She wanted to get to know her better. She wanted to know why her brother was so enamoured. She would have greater success in befriending her than making judgements from afar like Susan.

The look on Susan's face said that she disagreed with that statement, but the elder Pevensie decided not to voice her thoughts. The sisters did not like fighting with each other. They were stronger together, as Peter often said. Not wanting to push her sister further, Lucy dropped her napkin onto her half-finished plate of food and excused herself from the table. She rolled her eyes as her ladies-in-waiting huffed (not so quietly under their breaths) and followed her.

Susan often considered herself the mother of the group. She was always the one who doted on the others, the one who gave them comforting words and warm hugs; fixed them up with a cup of cocoa on dark nights. Susan reminded the younger brother of their mother, so he naturally sought her out for advice the most. Lucy and Peter called it the middle-child-syndrome, but they all knew that it was much more than that. While Peter and Edmund had a brotherly camaraderie, and Edmund messed around with Lucy; Susan and Edmund had a relationship built on something stronger. Lucy realised that this meant Susan would be calling Edmund into her solar for a conversation.

She cringed.

From what she had seen of Edmund's behaviour so far towards the mysterious girl from Calormen; her usually stoic brother was absolutely smitten.

Boy did she want to be a fly on the wall during that conversation.

* * *

 _Clang._

"You know brother; I think that your touch is slipping. Is your mind elsewhere?" Peter taunted as Rhindon clashed with Edmund's sword, Adrastos. Edmund twisted out of his grasp with the grace of a ballerina and performed an underhand manoeuvre that had Peter straining to hold away.

"What was that you were saying Pete?" Edmund asked, but just as quickly, Peter overpowered him with brute strength. The younger king stumbled back a bit, which was an unusual sight as he normally had good balance.

"Are you alright Ed?" Peter asked with slight worry, striding forwards and quickly dodging sideways as Edmund struck at him fiercely.

"Peachy," Edmund said as he came towards Peter with an onslaught of attacks. Peter found himself walking backwards, ducking and throwing his defence up as he tried to evade his brother's brutal hits.

Peter eyed his younger brother with worry. Edmund had been on edge since the moment he had brought back the Calormen girl in his arms. Never had Peter seen Edmund so frantic in all the years they had shared together as brothers (and if you include the erased years of the Golden Ages - that was a lot). The girl had been profusely bleeding all over his brother; her white tunic had been soaked in the burgundy colour of blood and burnt to a crisp around her waist where inflamed, splintering skin puckered out. Peter was a battle-hardened man. He had seen many casualties of war: blood, missing limbs, guts, brains ... the whole lot. But the sight of an innocent injured and marred made him gag. He supposed that was probably what had affected Edmund the most too. Fierce warriors they may be, Edmund and Peter, had always wanted to protect the innocent citizens of Narnia the most.

Peter, however, also had no disillusions about the fact that Hermione Granger was an innocent. The girl, as Caspian recounted the tales to him, had been given the choice of removing herself from the battle. Edmund had even ordered her to stay away for heavens sake. But she had, under her advice, decided to ignore a King run in without a plan; Peter didn't know whether he admired her or was offended by her absolutely insane manner of rebellion. Edmund may be agitated with the fact that she had been harmed under his watch, but Peter did not turn a blind eye to the fact that his brother had handed her his second best sword, Hermes. (The irony of the names did not escape Peter.) But it worried him, perhaps more than it should have, that his brother - who since the day his swords had been forged - had refused to part with them; had so wordlessly handed it over to a girl who had been in Narnia for no less than several weeks.

Having said that, the way Edmund had barked at the healers - reproving them for fumbling around mindlessly and to address the injury with a clearer head ... Peter had never witnessed such sentiment from his brother. It was only when Edmund demanded that Lucy brought her cordial that Peter finally stepped in and pulled his brother aside to talk some sense into him. It had taken a while to calm Edmund down, particularly since the girl whimpered in pain in the background as local anaesthetic was applied to her wound to prevent infection. In the end, it had been Susan's soothing voice that had broken Edmund away from the scene.

Their brother had been brought into the sanctuary of Peter's solar where the siblings convened with Caspian, who informed them of the events of the night. Peter was heavily suspicious of Hermione Granger's sudden, unexplained appearance in the woods; but he conflicted with the fact that she had risked her life to save his men and his brother and sister's future husband. That type of bravery could not be overlooked.

That had been a week ago, and Miss Granger had yet to regain consciousness. It seemed as though with every passing second she remained out cold; his brother grew hotter in his temper and impatience.

Peter blinked as he found himself on his back suddenly, wind left his lungs, and he winced as he felt the cold sharpness of metal against his jaw.

"You know brother; I think _your_ touch is slipping." Edmund mocked, though without any real malice. Edmund held his hand out to help Peter up, out of unhidden camaraderie.

Peter grinned as he took the offering. He had long conceded to the fact that his younger brother was a better swordsman than he. Edmund was proudly hailed as the Sword of Narnia.

"Fair show, brother." Peter smiled, bumping his shoulder against Edmund's playfully before he grasped the younger man's head in a lock and rubbed his knuckles against his scalp.

"Ow! Peter! Gedd'off!" Edmund exclaimed, twisting wildly to get out of his brother's grasp. When he failed, he wrapped his arms around his brother's waist, trying to tackle him to the ground with force and he succeeded. The two Kings of Narnia rumbled around on the dirt, trying to one-up each other in a mock wrestling match.

" _Boys_!"

They hastened to scramble off each other at the sound of their younger sister berating them.

"Can you please pull yourselves together? I hope you haven't forgotten that we are expected to receive the monarchs from Calormen and Archenland today. Goodness, if Susan saw the state of you two right now..." She looked over at them with a guise of distaste, though they both could see the mirth shining in her eyes. "Better get yourselves cleaned up." She sniffed, prancing out of the training field as though she owned it, the glittering cape around her shoulders whipped around snapping against the cold, marble floor.

"When did she turn into such a little tart?" Edmund huffed as he brushed off dirt from his trousers.

"She's been spending too much time with Susan," Peter muttered, as he stared at the retreating form of his baby sister with reasonable dismay.

"Do I really need to be there when Princess Mina gets here?" Edmund grumbled, now flicking the dirt on the ground up into the air with his sword, like a child who had been told that his playtime was over.

"Careful there Ed, a tone any higher and one might think that you may be whining," Peter smirked though the slight hardness in his eyes told the Edmund that the High King would not budge on his position on this. Peter became pretty anal when dealing with foreign dignitaries, and he preferred to have his best-spoken man on his right side, preventing him from blustering things up with callous words and starting another war. Edmund should, in all honesty, feel proud that his brother depended so much on him in this way; but unfortunately, the younger King saw this as a punishment rather than an honour. Peter rolled his eyes. _Only Ed.._.

Emperor Loke of Calormen and his daughter Princess Mina as well as King Nain, Queen Imani and Princess Cassiopeia from Archenland; Narnia's longstanding allies had been invited to Narnia in regards to the recent civil crisis of mysterious monsters and unsolved murders with warnings. After quick correspondence with their neighbouring lands, it became immediately apparent that similar incidents had occurred in both Calormen and Archenland. Which, incidentally, crossed off the Calormens (who had been high on the list) as potential suspects as the Emperor's brother had been killed in a wild animal attack.

After the attack in the woods, and the corresponding claw marks on the dead man's chest; it had been concluded that the beast had killed Count Edgware, but it had not escaped their notice that there had been a dagger with a note lodged in Edgware's throat. Not to mention, how the beast had entered and left the vicinity of the castle without alerting any of the patrols with its great size ... which only meant one truly terrifying things: it had been an inside job. The thought of witchcraft also being in play worried Peter to wits end. The last thing they needed; as a civil war in Narnia among the Old Narnians and Telmarines hung on loose threads, was an outbreak of magical creatures threatening the fine line of peace the monarchs were straining to hold together.

* * *

"Straighten up men," Peter announced to his soldier as he strode into the grand receiving room. He strode up the altar to where his siblings and Caspian were already stationed. Trumpkin apparently had mumbled something amusing to his youngest sister and brother as Edmund, who had been tugging uncomfortably on his waistcoat, openly laughed - only to be shut up with a dark glare from Susan from the other end of the room. The smirks remained on their faces, though.

Peter felt pride, as he sat down on his throne, as he stared out into the room of Narnians, Old and New alike, pleased by the way they stood together in unison, representing Narnia in the best possible way. Edmund and Caspian had tacked the ranks; wanting to weed out the best to form their Alpha team. The team who would be trusted with the immediate protection of the monarchs. Once that had been solved, the Beta team had been formed: a team full of leaders who would be entrusted with the training and improvement of the rest of the ranks. Peter shared a smile with General Glenstorm; who proudly held his station, with a bow at his King.

The signal of the trumpets altered them that the first of their guests had arrived. From his right, Edmund groaned quietly as the orange and black coloured flag of Calormen came into view. Caspian, on his left, quickly whispered something to Susan before straightening up. Peter held in his disfavour as the scent of eccentric Calormen cuisine flooded his nose as maidservants walked in with platters of offerings for the hosts. Trumpkin had apparently, once again, muttered something under his breath that had Lucy and Edmund snorting softly. No doubt, the dwarf (who had yet to learn the art of diplomacy), had been less than complimentary of the smell.

After, what seemed like an eternity, of gifts had flooded through the hall; the Emperor and his daughter traipsed in with an air pompousness that tickled Peter's moderation. The Emperor was draped with golden jewellery from head-to-toe as he flounced his wealth to the Narnians But it took more than a few dozen shiny metals to impress the Narnians - Peter was proud to say; as his knights barely bat an eyelid (though they were nearly blinded by the sunlight reflecting off the man). The Princess was no better. On her forehead, she adorned a headpiece made of just gold and precious stones. On her neck was probably the largest gold necklace that Peter had ever seen, it was like a choker that started from right under her chin and reached several inches past her collar bone. The clothes on her body were barely there; as she wore a two-piece suit. The blouse was more like a brasserie, though which ample amounts of her cleavage peaked through, and it finished just below her bust; leaving her stomach bare. Her skirt flared and flowed like a waterfall, it was white in colour and contrasted to the black of her blouse. The only thing that covered the space between her bust to her hips was a flimsy piece of thin, see-through material that draped over one shoulder in a pleat down to her skirt. There was a beauty to the cultural outfit, Peter supposed, had there been more material than skin. But he was hardly in a position to judge as a High King.

Peter waited until the monarchs had approached the thrones before he stood up and approached the guests.

"Emperor Loke, it has been too long," Peter bowed. He narrowed his eyes as the other monarch evidently hesitated before mimicking his gesture.

"High King Peter, a pleasure." The man croaked. Caspian greeted Emperor Loke next while Peter moved onto the Princess.

"Princess Mina," Peter said graciously, lifting the maiden's hand to his mouth to place a kiss upon it. The younger girl giggled ostentatiously, Peter grimaced, she could not be no more than a year or two older than Lucy - closer to Edmund's age, but she acted like a teenager. The girl had a grating personality that served to annoy his younger brother, and if Peter was being honest, he could understand why Edmund despised her.

"High King Peter," she giggled again, in that awfully high-pitched voice of hers. Peter, perhaps, feeling slightly vindictive, smirked as he turned around to find Edmund standing behind him to get the greet over and done with. His brother fixed him with a murderous glare before he schooled his features and addressed the Princess with a mild smile. Peter had to admire Edmund's acting skills.

Thankfully, before any more conversation had to be forced, the trumpets sounded again, announcing the arrival of the Archenlanders.

Narnia's longest standing allies were like the Narnians themselves. Though the gifts from Archenland could rival those of Calormen, the King, Queen and Princess presented themselves with farmer grace and simplicity as they had no taste for garish displays of luxury and fortune.

"High King Peter, a pleasure as always," King Nain greeted with a warmer, genuine smile that Peter found himself returning.

"King Nain," Peter replied, bowing respectfully to the older man. Nain was a direct descendant of Cor, who Peter had once had the pleasure of meeting during the Golden Ages, and in his features, Peter could see the resemblance. Edmund had bonded with Nain over Cor and Corin who were Nain's great-many-times-over-grandfathers; for he had known that troublesome then-Princes the best.

Queen Imani was of a gentle nature; so much so, that she could reasonably give Susan a run for her title. The woman and a warm, motherly disposition, and had taken the young monarchs of Narnia under her wing as her extended family. It had only made the Pevensies and Caspian love her more, as they missed the presence of their mothers.

"Princess Cassiopeia," Peter said breathlessly as he gazed upon the stunning woman before him. The blonde-haired beauty blushed prettily as he kissed her hand. Caspian cleared his throat conspicuously when Peter held her hand to his lips for longer than deemed appropriate. Peter flushed under the teasing voices of his brother and Caspian behind his back as he continued to stare at Cassie.

"I thought we decided that you would call me Cassie," she smiled, as she reminded him of their continued correspondence via letters.

"I - yes, forgive me, I forgot." Peter stuttered, taken aback by her casualness that had not been there the last time they'd met, their letters had opened her up quite a bit. Last time, both of them had been careful under each other's presence; which had irked Peter somewhat as Cassiopeia had opened up to Edmund almost immediately when they'd met.

"Cass!" Edmund called with forgotten formality as he pulled the girl in for a hug. Cassiopeia giggled and threw her arms around Edmund, greeting him like an old friend (clearly he hadn't been the only one who'd kept in contact), while Peter found himself trying to school in his envy.

"Cassiopeia," Queen Imani gently reminded her daughter from her side, and immediately, the princess controlled her features and pulled away from Edmund. Edmund met Peter's hard gaze with a knowing smirk that made Peter want to take him brother to the armoury again and pummel him into the ground.

"How about we let the maids prepare lunch while we discuss state affairs?" Caspian suggested as he gestured in the direction of the war room. The jovial atmosphere amongst the monarchs soured quickly as seriousness took over. Yes, there was an unresolved murder and an appearance of magical monsters to discuss.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

It seemed that Aslan was not gracing him with the peace of solitude today.

Edmund turned around the corner that led to the kitchens and found Hermione Granger sitting on a bench sipping on what looked like chicken soup. The girl sat quite precariously on the edge of the seat, with one dainty hand on top of her sensitive side that had been patched up. She was finally awake, it seemed and in good enough health to have moved herself to the kitchens from the infirmary. She still looked pallid, but some colour was finally returning to her cheeks; at least she didn't look on the brink of death anymore.

"You seem to have a habit of being in places you're not supposed to be," he commented casually as he walked further into the room.

She jumped at the unexpected voice, her neck flicking sharply in his direction. Her tenseness eased as she realised who it was.

"Oh, King Edmund," she commented with a hint of surprise. He supposed that she assumed he would never dare step foot into a place like the kitchens of the palace. She, however, made no movement of getting up and curtseying or leaving the room.

Edmund stared at her blankly, before raising a single eyebrow. "Was the food in the infirmary not to your taste?" he asked as he sat down beside her on the wooden bench.

She blushed.

"It was not exactly what I was expecting," she mumbled, watching through lidded eyes as the King removed the sword from his waist and well as the stifling layers of jacket and waistcoat until he was just left in his breeches and shirt. He suddenly looked much more relaxed; as though the weight of his role had come off with his confined clothing.

"You're hardly in a position to be complaining."

"No, I suppose I'm not." She relented, "but I am used to my mother's homemade soup when I'm poorly. I suppose that I'm still not entirely accustomed to Narnian food yet."

"That was not Narnian food!" Cook Rocco the Hare quibbled as he hopped into the seating area from the actual kitchens. "Your Majesty." He bowed. "Eat up that soup girl; I did not make it fresh for you from scratch for it to go to waste. Look at that tight skin on your bones; hardly any fat. Dear me, have they been starving you?" Rocco hassled over her. Edmund smirked at the overbearing hare; Rocco only ever meant well, but he had a strange way of showing his affection. "Those Calormens, you would think that after two millenniums of that awful food that they haven't dropped dead!"

Hermione openly gaped at Rocco's words; while Edmund openly chortled, agreeing wholeheartedly.

"That's racist!" Hermione disputed, looking aghast.

"Racist! I'll tell you who the racist bigots are, girl! It's them Calormens; that's who! Should see the way they treat Talking Animals!" Rocco bristled, his whiskers twitching manically.

Hermione turned towards the King.

"You agree with this?"

"I do. _You_ of all people should know all about the Calormens, considering they _enslaved_ you." The King narrowed his eyes.

Hermione fell silent, clamping her mouth shut. Rocco stared at Hermione as though he was seeing her in a new light.

"Oh, your poor thing. Don't you fret, the Kings and Queens of Narnia are not like those Calormens. Eat up now." Rocco poured more soup into her bowl, ignoring Hermione's protests. "What can I get you, Sire?"

"Something edible." Edmund drawled. The Hare grinned widely at the King before hopping off.

"Was that necessary?" Hermione asked Edmund the moment Rocco was out of earshot.

"Is that little white lie becoming a burden for you Miss Granger?"

"You know that I did not start the lie."

"But you continued it."

"Out of necessity."

"You define deceit as a necessity Miss Granger?"

"I was in a land I have never heard of, with nothing on my person to fend for myself ... so forgive me, if I did not speak up to correct my situation when I was confused about my survival."

"And what exactly did you survive?" Edmund asked pointedly as he stared at her unbandaged wrist.

Cloudbirth, the (centaur) Narnian Healer, had unravelled the bandage after the girl had fallen asleep out of pain, the nurse had naively wondered if it was an old wound that needed to be re-bandaged. They all had been shocked to find the carving on her skin. The jagged lines represented that it had been purposely carved, but Edmund was not sure what the term meant. ' _ **Mudblood**_.' He could tell that it was a term of offence, but its definition? There were so many ways in which it could be interpreted; he would say that it meant her blood was of little standing, that who ever called her _that_ , whoever carved it into her _skin_ had considered her worthless and below them. Which, if he believed the tale she had told him, would make sense if she was a slave. But, for some reason, he just couldn't take that story at face level. He knew that there was something he was missing. Something obvious. Something that was blatantly in front of him - for which he was sure, once he found out, he would be kicking himself for not figuring it out sooner.

Hermione followed his gaze and instantly twisted her wrist to hide the words from sight.

"How did you get that?" He asked, disregarding all tact.

Hermione shrugged.

"You know, it's customary to answer your King when he asks you a question."

"Oh? And I suppose the King is just used to getting his way." Hermione sniped, staring at him with steely eyes.

Edmund mirrored her gaze, "don't assume you know me ... and stereotyping can skew judgements, Miss Granger."

"I think my judgements are level."

The King locked his jaw.

"Perhaps you've overstayed your welcome."

"I was here first!" She said almost petulantly; digging her spoon into her soup with force, causing the liquid to slosh around. Edmund winced as loose droplets sprayed his face. Hermione looked at him with horror as he gingerly wiped away the chicken stew from the end of his straight nose. Edmund stared at the girl with disdain as she snorted, and then dissolved into inconsolable bouts of laughter. He had to admit ... it was quite infectious, and he felt his frown melt away from his face and indulged himself with a smile.

"Oh ... we're being quite silly aren't we?" She asked, still giggling as she looked at him with mirth.

"A King is never silly, Miss Granger."

"Yes, of course, how could I forget?" She asked with a roll of her eyes though her comment was made tongue-in-cheek. It seemed as though she did not have the energy to argue with him for the entire night.

"Eat before it gets cold," he said as his plate of food arrived. Edmund breathed in the aroma of the reheated soup and dipped his fresh bread into the liquid.

"Haven't had the time to eat?" She asked after a moment of silence, watching with awe in he devoured the food like a starved man. Which could not be true ... because he was a _King_.

"... No, we had plenty. But it was Calormen cuisine ... not one of my _favourites_." Hermione scrunched her nose as she remembered the plate of food she'd been given in the infirmary when she'd woken up. If the healing burn on her skin hadn't already been making her feel queasy; the food positively made her feel worse. The aroma itself was nauseating. Hermione had heard that the monarchs of neighbouring lands were currently in Narnia.

"What even was that?" She asked.

Edmund shrugged; he'd never even gone to the effort of finding out.

"Probably troll shite," Rocco grumbled from the corner. Hermione hid her grin with another spoonful of her soup.

"Troll shite? Why are we talking about troll shite?" Lucy's sweet voice asked as she glided into the kitchen like a fairy. "Ooh! What are we having?" She asked excitedly at the sight of real food.

"Chicken soup," Edmund said, through a mouthful of bread. Hermione and Lucy grimaced.

"Dear Edmund, try to remember that you are a King, and we are in the presence of a guest." Lucy chided as she smiled warmly at Hermione. "Hello, I believe we've met before." She smiled.

"Yes, Your Majesty." Hermione smiled shyly, bowing her head respectfully. Edmund rose an eyebrow at her demeanour. Apparently her insolence was specially reserved for just him. "Hermione Granger, how do you do?" She asked primly.

"I know who you are silly," Lucy giggled. "It would be hard to forget the name of the girl behind the reason why my brother has been so grouchy recently."

Edmund and Hermione gaped at her.

"Oh thank you, Rocco," Lucy grinned as she drank her soup, pretending not to notice the death glare Edmund was shooting towards her. Hermione had awkwardly returned to her meal. "It's good to see you up and about Hermione."

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

"Oh stop with that Your Majesty rubbish. Honestly, I hate it. Call me Lucy." The young Queen winked.

"... I hardly think that's proper Your Majesty."

"Rubbish! The only one who believes in that junk is Susan."

"What junk does Susan believe in?" Came a new voice that Hermione hadn't heard before. She turned and watched as a stunningly beautiful woman walked in with High King Peter. She must be one of the princesses currently visiting.

Hermione stood up and curtseyed at him.

"He gets a curtsey, and I don't?" Edmund asked her with displeasure.

"Oh, that Susan is the only one who cares about titles," Lucy told the newcomers.

"That is true..." Peter conceded.

"Getting jealous already Eddie?" The blonde woman teased. Peter plopped down opposite Hermione with the new woman squeezing next to him.

"I don't believe we've met, I'm Cassiopeia, but you can call me Cassie." The woman introduced.

"Hermione Granger."

"Ah! You're the elusive Hermione. I've heard much about you!"

"That's surprising considering I'm new in Narnia."

"It's the impressions we make that leave an impact Miss Granger," Peter told her.

"Thank you High King Peter," Hermione blushed, though she looked a bit disconcerted by the attention she was receiving.

"Please, call me Peter, Miss Granger."

Hermione fixed the monarchs around her with an even gaze, not knowing if they were being genuinely serious or not, she eventually looked at Edmund. She queried him with a questioning gaze, and he unhelpfully shrugged - perhaps that was his payback for not getting a curtsey.

"Okay." She agreed easily. "But only if you all call me Hermione," she bartered. Edmund smirked. She seemed always to want to have the final say. However, her demand was easily met.

Peter groaned out of satisfaction as a bowl of soup appeared before him. He, like Edmund, dug into his meal without a word, and that cleared up the little tension in the room. Soon, gentle laughter and chatter broke out amongst the young adults gathered and strangely, Hermione found herself being strangely accepted amongst the group of unlikely friends.

.

.

.

* * *

 **A.N./** Wow. That was a long chapter. But I just had so much to fit in without having to drag it out into yet another chapter, and there was a lot of cleaning up to do with this chapter; I had written so much and had to delete almost half of it because it was just nonsense! So perhaps you noticed that some old characters from Prince Caspian have returned like Trumpkin and Glenstorm. And some new ones like the monarchs of neighbouring countries. King Nain and Emperor Tisroc are canonical to the Narnian universe. However, the Princesses and Queen are of my creation.

I can't believe the number of reviews that I had for the last chapter! It is unbelievable, and I feel so lucky to have a constant number of people following this story and regularly giving me feedback. Not only does it encourage me to write but it also feels so good that people are genuinely enjoying this story. So once again, thanks to: Royal Lemur, dreamcatcherinthemoonlight, AliceinWonderland13, Utrix, Comic Critic and twztdwildcat!

I am so sorry that this update has taken so long; but planning out the direction in which this story is headed, creating links and connections and trying to be smart with the plot is harder than I initially imagined. It's also hard, with as many characters as this story has, to fit in everyone's story. My priority is to have a clear, followable plot, which as the chapters go on, should become more apparent to you; but to also have a flow with the characters. I want my characters to improve and grow larger in personalities with every chapter I write and hopefully that's coming across.

Also, I wanted your opinion about Edmund and Hermione ... do they seem in character to you? Is there something you think that I should change about them to make them seem more natural? Is the pace of their growing relationship slow or constant? Please let me know!

As always, leave your thoughts below :)

...

And since you guys are so awesome, I have decided that instead of a virtual cookie; I stall now give you a deleted scene at the end of every chapter. This includes lines that I have deleted or even passages I took out of the chapter because it did not fit in with the timeline, or I thought that it did not belong to the actual chapter.

* * *

 **COOKIE (;.)**

* * *

"Ran towards the beast you say?"

"Yes, she did."

"It had three heads?"

"Yes, we couldn't believe it ourselves!"

"... and _you_ killed a fire breathing monster? ... Awesome!..."

"Well, I had help, of course. King Caspian X was the one who slew the other two heads." Oliver dismissed graciously, but Derek shook his head vehemently behind his back; letting the others know that the second eldest was being his usual modest self.

"You should have seen King Edmund attack it! It was like something from the history books. I see why they call him Narnia's sword now." Derek said, with awe.

"Don't be so ridiculous Derek; we already knew how deadly King Edmund is with a sword. You've seen him practice with the other Kings. I say, I often worry for King Peter's and King Caspian's safety when the battle him."

"But to see him in actual battle, though ... it was an honour, truly." Derek breathed, his eyes were shining with worship. After the reclaiming of Narnia by the Narnian Kings and Queens; the land had yet to see another war. So, the Warriors of Narnia were limited to watching the fabled Kings and Queen train; last night had been the first time the King of Old had been watched in action.

"... And scary. He was out for blood. And I thought I was going to die when I fell five foot!" Oliver shuddered, he wasn't too fond of heights.

"What I don't understand is," the small individual conversations amongst the brothers fell silent as Peter spoke, "how did Hermione end up in the woods?"

"She said she needed some fresh air," Sally said helpfully as she walked into their home. Her brothers looked at her puzzled.

"There's a difference between stepping out for air and walking five miles away deep into the forest, Sal." Tobias snorted.

"And there's a difference between playing a part in a battle and risking your life to save others," Sally replied smartly. Her brothers remained silent for a moment.

"Cor, blimey. She's a brave one isn't she?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Moments in Time**

 **Disclaimer:** Copyright J.K. Rowling & C.S. Lewis

* * *

 **VIII:** Rendezvous

or

"The dead of midnight is the noon of thoughts."

* * *

"I find it absolutely fascinating..."

Edmund looked up from his plate of roast dinner and at the girl sitting opposite him. Her nose was stuck in one of the history books that he had given her (from his personal, private collection which had been salvaged during the attack at Cair Paravel after their disappearance).

He wasn't quite sure how it started, how midnight liaisons in the kitchen became something of a norm for them. It started off with Edmund starving himself during the day, unable to eat the awful Calormen food that Peter would not allow the kitchen staff to throw away. And Hermione, who apparently was the only other person in this castle who had taste buds, met (by accident) for some edible sustenance at the dead of the night ... and somehow that had transformed into them returning the subsequent nights in search of friendly company.

"..." he looked at her expectantly.

"...that the first King of Narnia was formally a London cabby!" she exclaimed, looking at him with shining bright eyes.

Edmund smothered a smile; he hadn't met anyone else who shared the same passion for knowledge like him in Narnia before ... apart from Doctor Cornelius, that is.

"Frank I was well loved by the Narnians, they only had pleasant things to say about him ... Narnia has a way of bringing in those deserving ones who are lost and showing them a better path."

"Is that why you trust me then?" she asked out of curiosity.

"Who says that I trust you?" A smirk played on his lips, but his gaze was dangerous.

Hermione shrugged, "Well for two reasons really ... one, you haven't chucked me in the dungeons."

"And the other?"

"...You haven't told your siblings about me yet."

"How do you know that I haven't?"

"Your sister Lucy, as lovely as she is ... can't keep a secret can she?" The smirk on his face grew. "...What I mean to say is, I suspect that if she knew ... I would be subject to quite a bit of ... uh, _questioning_."

She played the white stick of hers that she seemed to carry everywhere. He watched with bored interest as she rolled it around on the surface of the table. It was an intricately carved piece of wood, the detailing was so small that he could not pick out the etchings, but he couldn't help but be intrigued by its tranquil beauty.

"Can't say that you haven't hit the nail on the head there."

"So why haven't you?"

"Why haven't I, what?"

Hermione sighed at his stalling; the air that escaped her mouth blew a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes.

"Told your siblings about me," she said, the irritation evident in her voice as she tugged at the lock and placed it behind her ear.

His eyes connected with hers, and they held each other's gaze for a while. He took in the honesty in her eyes and she took in the wariness in his.

"So, what's with the stick?"

He broke eye contact and stared at the white wood again. If she had been annoyed by him dismissing her question again, she didn't show it, as her attention had been successfully diverted.

"Stick?" she asked.

He could tell that she was suddenly playing dumb; her voice was honeyed with fake innocence. Were he a simpler man, he may have been fooled.

"Yes, the stick. You seem to carry it around on your person as though it's a weapon. What are you planning to do? Poke the enemy in the eye?"

There was a brief flash of panic in her eyes and a straightening of her spine.

"Well, yes, that is one use of this ... _stick,_ I suppose." Her breath was hitched.

And then, all of a sudden, she smiled. Her posture relaxed, becoming less defensive. Edmund leant forward with interest, wondering if she would be parting with one of her closely held secrets for once.

"Why King Edmund, I'm surprised that you haven't already figured it out ... it's my _magic wand,_ " she whispered the last bit as though it was a secret.

Edmund scowled as he moved away from her.

"I was planning on turning you into a frog ... give those girls in town their own King-in-disguise to kiss and find true love..." (Edmund inwardly shuddered at the thought) "...but, alas, you have discovered my deep, dark plot."

Edmund snorted at her teasing; his chagrin melted away and the lines on his face eased.

"Yeah, right _sure_ you were ... straight after you turn Peter into an ass..."

Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Oh woe is me, all that planning has gone to pot," she said, her tone sounding very much as though she was enjoying a private joke.

The amusement on his face faltered slightly as he looked at her with acute suspicion. Her smile remained, though seeming more forced now than before ... perhaps she thought that she had gone a bit too far. But before he had a chance to question her further, she abruptly stood up, collecting her _wand,_ book and her finished plate of food. Quickly cleaning the plate in the sink, she bade him goodbye and disappeared before he even had a chance to offer to walk her back to the infirmary. Left in his thoughts, Edmund considered what she had told him.

Surely not ...

A witch ... that was _impossible_.

Absolutely improbable.

Her wand wasn't even a real one. He remembered Jadis' wand, long and sharp as a sword and carved out of ice.

She had just been mocking him ... she was a mere girl from London. Her accent was distinctively British and even she had admitted it.

There were no witches in London ...

... No, _definitely not_.

* * *

"Don't have your magical wand with you today?" he asked as casually as one would ask about the weather as he strolled into the kitchen.

Like routine, he dumped his sword and jacket on a stool by the door. He unbuttoned his top collar buttons and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows. As he walked closer to her, his eyes roamed over her corset-dress clad figure ... it had been days since he had seen her in something so feminine. He inwardly grimaced; she looked much better in a tunic and breeches - it set her apart from looking like every other girl in Narnia. Though having said that, being able to see her shapely figure accentuated by the tight dress wasn't so harsh on the eyes either.

She blushed at his attentive gaze and pulled the object in question from between the ribbon tied around her waist.

Edmund raised an eyebrow.

"You know, were it not for your able mind, I would be distinctively worried about your attachment to a stick."

"What is a witch without her wand, King Edmund?"

Edmund rolled his eyes at her continued joke.

"Edmund," he muttered as he grabbed a slice of the cake set on the table.

"Beg pardon?" she asked as though she hadn't heard him the first time around.

"Edmund, it's just Edmund," he said through gritted teeth.

She looked at him with disbelieving eyes, as though she was unsure why he was offering her the honour when he clearly wasn't comfortable with it.

"Seems a bit redundant to be using titles when we meet in the kitchens in the dead of the night."

"Only by a coincidence of course..." she said, with furrowed eyebrows.

"Indubitably," he smirked.

The crease between her eyebrows deepened. Was he ... _flirting with her_? There was a muffled snort from behind them and Hermione's eyes fell on the grey wolf. The King's guard was so well trained to blend into the background that Hermione often forgot his presence.

"So, coincidentally, what _are_ you doing here tonight?" asked Hermione, swiftly moving her gaze away from the intimidating Wolf.

It was a valid question; for the Calormen food had been swapped to honour the other visitors: the Archenlanders.

"I guess I got used to the midnight snacks." Edmund shrugged noncommittally, as he ruffled his soft hair with his hand.

The Wolf behind him made a snuffling sound as he padded around the room impatiently.

"How are you healing up?" he asked, suddenly all too aware of her penetrating gaze on him. It was unnerving and made him extremely uncomfortable.

"Well," she replied with a shrug, looking away. "I was taking a walk in the gardens with Queen Lucy and discovered some dittany ... did you knew that one of the properties of the essence found in the sap can heal and regrow skin over a wound?"

Edmund looked at her with surprise, no, actually, he did not. Dittany was known in Narnia for its flammable vapours; it was a plant that was harvested for use as ammunition.

"It can also prevent scarring if swallowed."

"You ate the burning bush?" Edmund asked her with wide eyes, looking at her as though he thought her crazy.

"Like I said, it has impressive healing properties."

"You're not telling me that Healer Cloudbirth allowed you to swallow the burning bush?" Edmund asked sceptically.

Hermione blushed, "Well I may have taken it when he wasn't looking."

Edmund's eyebrows rose at her daring.

"And the essence?" he asked now, out of intellectual curiosity.

"How do you think I'm wearing a corset?"

"Amazing," Edmund muttered, in awe. "How did you know about the dittany?"

"It's a well known ... cure back home."

He ignored the pause in her sentence for the moment; he would file that information away for later.

"You're one very curious woman, Hermione."

"How so?"

"Well for one, you seem to have a vast knowledge on ... everything." (' _For someone supposedly enslaved_ ,' remained unsaid but she knew that was what he was hinting at.)

"Insufferable little know-it-all," she murmured, her eyes taking a far-away look.

Edmund flinched, "Well, I wouldn't exactly call you an insufferable know-it-all."

His face was an expression of 'no-offense-intended'. Hermione let out a small laugh, the conversation, the topic, the words, just so reminiscent of the girl who she used to be.

"No, not you. Back home ...being a know-it-all was one of my more defining qualities. ' _You know that Hermione Granger?_ ' ... ' _Oh, yes, that insufferable little know-it-all from Gryff-_ ' hmmm-" Hermione stuttered at the end, muffling the words that had been on the tip of her tongue.

It seemed that with her, it was all riddles and half-spoken words. Edmund frowned. How many instances was he going to overlook to give her the benefit of the doubt?

"What was it like?"

She stared at him with wide eyes.

"Back home - you come from far into the future to me - was there another war?"

"No. Peace and prosperity reigned after World War II. They even managed to get a man to the moon."

"The moon?" Edmund asked with awe, the last he remembered of Britain was the rations ... and even that was slowly becoming a distant memory. Narnia had that effect on you. Over time, you just ... _forgot_.

"Yes! It was quite the accomplishment for muggles! One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind."

Edmund filed that quote away for later, but his mind clung to one of the words she used.

"Muggles?" he questioned, "What's that?"

She stiffened.

He was slowly beginning to realise that it was a sign that she was about to lie - but he had to hand it to her, she had enough self-control not to dart her eyes, fidget or wet her lips like most people did out of nervous habit. He wondered what excuse she was going to provide this time.

"Yes ... it's a slang word for humans."

The winning look in her eyes and suppressed smile on her lips told him that she was pleased. She was delighted because once again, she had managed to twist her words and embroider her lie with the truth. He had no doubt that it was slang for 'humans', but he knew that he was missing the context it was taken out of. Edmund had never been so gratingly frustrated in the company of another before. He wanted to grasp her by the shoulders and shake the truth out of her. On another perspective, he now knew why the Lords of the Court hated him so much. It was maddening to be in the company of one who seemed to be two steps ahead of everyone else. Sly words and concealed lies were the essences of the Silver-Tongued King and it appeared that there was now one person who was better at it than he was.

"Funny world, the future," he commented, at last, wetting his lips.

"It always is to those on the outside, looking in," she said off-handedly, picking at the remaining pieces of her Victoria Sponge.

Edmund couldn't decide if he loathed her or admired her.

* * *

Edmund Pevensie was a man on a warpath.

He hated her.

He despised her guts.

And were it not politically damning, he would happily run a sword through her chest and be done with it.

As he stalked through the darkened corridor, his mood worsened. They were back to the Calormen cuisine after the little _Princess_ threw a hissy fit, and once again, he was a starving man. It was ridiculous; he was a King ... he shouldn't have to wait until dusk to be able to eat. He didn't know how his siblings were stomaching it.

He growled as he threw the door into the kitchen wide open and chucked his sword against the wall. It clattered loudly before it bounced back with equivalent momentum. Without the grace expected of a King, he plopped down onto the bench, and burrowed his head between the crook of his arm and screamed (quite loudly).

"Oh dear." Someone beside him muttered.

Snapping his head up, he peered at Hermione through his bangs. ... of course, she would be here. That's exactly what he needed right now, her to irritate him with her all-knowing secretive ways and words. Growling viciously, he snatched a delicious looking pastry and stuffed it into his mouth; chewing like a wild man. Hermione continued to stare at him with wide eyes. She let him compose himself for a moment.

"... Are you ... _alright?_ " She hesitated, placing her hands on her lap and moved out of his reach subtly.

Edmund forced himself to calm down; there was no need in frightening the girl. He grumbled unintelligibly.

"Sorry, what was that?" she asked with a grimace.

"I am going to kill her!" he roared impatiently, his calming technique failing him.

Hermione looked understandably taken back, "...erm, - who?" Her tone was meek.

"Princess _fucking_ Mina!"

"Are - are you allowed to be using her name in that way?"

" _No_ , but I don't bloody care. You hear me? Jadis' baggy tits, _I don't care_!"

"... Okay ..."

"Bad enough I have to put up with her batting her eyes and palming my torso but I draw the line at _food_. I need my sustenance. I cannot, _I cannot_ do another day of this."

Hermione's lips twitched minutely.

"What's stopping you from coming here during the day?" she couldn't help but enquire.

"Were you not listening to me? I have to tend to little miss prissy's every beck and call or lo-and-behold, I may be stirring an already strained peace treaty if _princess_ goes running back to her daddy."

Hermione couldn't hold back her smile anymore and that only made Edmund more infuriated.

"Don't smile. It's not funny."

"Sorry." She looked anything but. "I thought you would be used to the fawning ladies. Men like you are usually so flattered over things like that."

" _Men like me_?" Edmund spluttered indignantly.

"Well, Kings - and men in power -" Hermione trailed, not quite sure where she was taking this.

"I thought we agreed on disregarding stereotypes, _Hermione._ "

She shivered. "So you're telling me that you aren't at all flattered by it?" she asked sceptically.

"Well, of course, I'm flattered," she cast him an 'I-told-you-so' look. "But that doesn't mean it isn't at the same time extremely irritating and disturbing. The way they flutter their eyes - you would think that they have a perpetual twitch going on."

Hermione giggled and for the first time Edmund's frowning face eased up, he smiled warmly.

"It's one of the things I like about you. You're able to hold a conversation without resorting to such underhanded techniques to get attention," he said the words had left his mouth before he registered them.

Hermione's smiling face froze. Her mouth fell half-open, her cheeks turned pink and her eyes went wide with stupor.

"Well - I -," she stammered, speechless.

Edmund was also stunned by what he had said; he hadn't even admitted it to himself. He felt his cheeks warming. Hermione cleared her throat.

"I think I best be returning, Your Majesty," she murmured.

Edmund inwardly flinched at her switch to his formal title.

"Allow me to escort you back," he said, standing up.

"Oh, but you haven't had your dinner yet," she protested, looking like she was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

If there was only one thing that Lucy had right about her brother, it was that he was a man who got what he wanted. So, he stood his ground.

"I've let you walk back alone twice this week, and it was my misreckoning to allow you without an escort. No place in Narnia is safe at the moment, especially in a castle populated with Calormens."

Hermione looked undecided, but upon his hard gaze, she conceded.

"Well, alright then."

She collected her wand and tucked it back into her sash and dress and then handed him the large history book she had borrowed.

"Got bored?" he asked her, weighing the tome in his hands, it was a hefty read. Hermione, for some reason, looked offended.

"Bored? Heavens no, I finished it."

Edmund gazed at her with alarmed eyes.

"You ... finished it?" He stared at the large text in his hands ... how was that even possible?

"Yes, it was only a bit of light reading," she commented as she brushed some invisible dust off her skirt. She sounded as though she had read books that were even larger - which sounded absurd to Edmund's ears.

"Light reading," Edmund echoed, with a hint of mirth in his voice, "right."

He gazed at her again with a look that bordered on fond incredulousness and genuine disbelief.

"I suppose we can take some food with us as well then, drop both of them off in my solar."

Hermione shrugged apathetically; she didn't seem to mind.

* * *

Edmund walked her to his room.

He had slipped his jacket back on and his trusty sword was once again back on around his waist and her hand was on his arm. The weight that Edmund carried on his person, he had become accustomed to over the years. He had even offered his arm to plenty-a-women before, but for the first time, he noticed how right it felt. Her warmth seeped through his light summer clothes and it was welcoming. There was something else in her touch that was so calming, that he was almost regretful that they had reached his room. Dislodging her arm from his (with a heavy heart), he opened the door and welcomed her in.

Hermione had only been in this room once before, and the last time, she had left in tears. He winced as he remembered how insensitive he had been to her plight. There were better ways that he could have handled that situation; but Edmund was also a stubborn man who despised apologising - even if the fault was entirely his - so he remained silent.

"So this is your hideout?" she asked rhetorically, as she, for the first time, admired the room for its artistry.

The western wall was a screen of full-length windows that provided a breathtaking view over the cliffs and to the sandy shores. Long red curtains with gold trimmings were held open, letting the moonlight into the room. Hermione was sure that during the day it would look stunning. The other three walls, (tastefully decorated with opulent red and gold themes) were covered from top to bottom with shelves and there was not a free inch between the stacked books. Hermione noted the ladder that rested against the end of the bookshelf that would help him reach books that were high up. Edmund walked towards it and placed the history book back in its rightful place.

A large glass candle-lit chandelier hung from the ornate ceiling (Hermione briefly wondered how they lit it - with it being up so high - without magic). Dotted around the room were priceless looking ornaments and furniture that no doubt was handcrafted for the King. There was a beautiful two-seater divan at the south-east corner of the chamber. The vintage buttoned sofa was stunning with its gold leaf detailing and flamboyant ornate carvings. The padded luxurious soft-looking red damask fabric covered the seats looked thoroughly inviting. Hermione just wanted to cosy up with a good book on that sofa. On the East Wall, she could see a large opening that was currently closed with red curtains made of the same material as the ones on the windows. She noted the emblem of a gold lion on its rear legs, the flag of Narnia. She concluded that it probably led to his sleeping quarters. Curiosity itched at the back of her mind, making her wonder if his bedroom was as magnificently decorated as his living quarters.

"You have your own private library," she breathed, that being the one fact that she admired most.

Given that it was a pretty large room, her mind boggled at the extensive collection he owned. He looked quite proud of it too.

"Susan designed the rooms when Cair Paravel was rebuilt," he commented, taking a familiar posture on the edge of his desk.

The last time he had done that, it had been to intimidate her. He was still just as intimidating, but not in the same way. This time, it felt more ... intimate. She found herself walking towards him.

"Yes, I read about that. The Telmarines attacked Narnia shortly after your disappearance. I bet the original castle was just as beautiful."

"More beautiful..." Edmund said with a wistful look in his eye.

Hermione smiled weakly at him and walked around his table, reaching for the books on his back wall. Her fingers brushed against the spines of the books; she let herself be enveloped in the sensation. This was familiar to her.

"You're welcome to borrow any book you like," he commented from behind her.

The smile on her face widened, she spun around.

"Real-"

She crashed into his solid torso. She hadn't been aware that he had been standing so close.

"Oh," she whispered, her hands rested against his chest and his were suddenly around her waist, grabbing on to steady her.

Her chest brushed against his with every staggering breath she took; she braved a glance up at him. She was left speechless by the burning intensity behind his onyx eyes. His eyes fascinated her. They were unlike any that she had seen before; they way they changed from a pale grey to jet black was quite ... _seductive_ , if she was honest. When his nose bumped against hers, she suddenly jumped back, becoming aware of her situation.

Both of them averted their eyes uncomfortably shifting and coughing. The tension in the room was so thick; it could be cut with a knife.

"That's very kind of you," Hermione said, clearing her throat.

Edmund nodded stiffly, he was looking anywhere but at her. Feeling awkward, she walked back to the desk, intrigued by the book on his desk.

What was he reading?

She picked up the book, looking at the numbers on the page with confusion that was slowly morphing into realisation.

Edmund snapped out of his embarrassment when he realised what she held in her hands.

"Those are state secrets." He barked impolitely.

Hermione jumped, dropping the book in her hands. She bent down to gather the loose pieces of parchment from the ground and Edmund joined her.

"You write your state secrets in binary code?" she asked.

Edmund froze.

Hermione acknowledging his inaction looked up at him.

"You know this code?" He asked her with the desperation of a desirous man.

Hermione stood up with the book.

"Well ... _yes_. The binary code is a system of representing letters, numbers, commands, images and sounds using ones and zeros. It's amazing really because the string ones and zeros appear to be random but there is a process to it. It's a pattern. It's the basis for modern computing. It was invented by-"

Edmund had been pacing up till now. "-by Gottfried Leibniz. The _Explication de l'Arithmétique Binaire._ Of course!" Edmund exclaimed, smacking his forehead with his hand.

Hermione winced as the sound reverberated through the room.

How had he not thought of it sooner?

"Do you know it?" he asked, grasping her by the shoulders. "Do you know the code?" The frenzy was evident in his eyes.

Hermione presumed that he had spent hours, maybe days, trying to crack this code.

"No," she said, being the bearer of bad news.

His shoulders slumped defeatedly.

"-But we can figure it out."

She placed the book down on his desk and grabbed a new piece of parchment from his desk. Edmund went to help her with the writing equipment, but with the competence of someone who's had long-term practice with an ink pot and quill; she dipped it in at just the right angle, waiting for the perfect amount of time for the ink to be sucked in, letting the excess drip back into the pot before she started scrawling on the parchment, making no splotches.

Edmund was stupefied. Even in the 1940s quills were a thing of the 19th century; mass produced steel nib tipped pens were what Edmund had grown up with - what she should have grown up with too. History served to evidence the fact that people rarely went back to prehistoric ways. The list of strange facts about Hermione Granger continued to grow. He focussed on her when he realised that she was speaking to him.

"... I remember reading that the alphabet had eight digits. It starts with a '01' - we just need to work from there and decode it."

"Right," Edmund whispered numbly.

"In the English alphabet, 'e' is the most used letter. So we need to find the binary that appears the most in this ... _code_ ... and work our way from there." She stated resolutely with the tone of a military commander, sitting down in his chair without another thought.

She seemed to be in a trance, as though solving mysteries was run-of-the-mill for her. With frightening speed, the quill scratched against the parchment in an elongated, elegant typography. Edmund frowned deeply over her head. He met Dagger's gaze as they openly contemplated the sphinx-like girl. Dagger shook his head; his Wolf heightened senses did not pick up anything dark or malignant emitting from her. In fact, the vibes he got from her told him that she could be trusted.

"Are you going to make yourself useful?" she asked haughtily, pausing in her research as she peered at him with a glare.

His worries melted away as he looked at her with amusement.

She really was something.

And so, the two academics poured over the encoded characters deep into the night; the packed parcel of pastries forgotten.

.

.

.

* * *

 **A.N./** Some chapters are easier to write than others. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter; it was full of Edmund and Hermione! I think it's finally time for them to spend more time in each other's company without the interruption from others ...

Thank you, thank you, thank you to all these lovely people: Royal Lemur, Hohoho, Barro Cha Cha, Comic Critic, twztdwildcat, AliceinWonderland13 and dreamcatcherinthemoonlight. You guys are the best!

* * *

 **COOKIE (.;)**

* * *

Peter Pevensie was a wise young man. He may have a temper that short-fused when someone threatened the safety of his siblings, or Narnia, or questioned his ability to rule ... but his heart was in the right place. He wanted to provide the best for his kingdom and be the best at his job. After all, there was only one High King of Narnia, and he had to live up to the legacy he had left behind the first time around. As High King, Peter rarely had the time for fanciful things such as love and relationships. Such commitment required effort that he was not willing to sacrifice his time to make (hence the bedwarmers who were nothing but a casual fling - as ashamed as he was to admit); but he would by lying, if he said that he did not feel lonely as he watched Susan and Caspian head-over-heels for one another. He and Edmund may tease the couple, but both Pevensie Kings knew that they would, in a heartbeat, snatch up that one woman who was _the_ game-changer. And that was what Peter had found in Cassiopeia.

The minute that Peter laid his eyes on her he knew. He was aware that, that she was the one for him. In all her effortless, charming grace and remarkable sweetness, he had, quite literally, fallen in love at first sight. Let the fair hair on her head not fool you, as Cassiopeia, contrary to stereotypes about blondes, was as vicious as she was kind and as shy as she was bold. It was the complexity of her character that had intrigued him.

He was embarrassed to admit that the first time he had met her, he had not been present as she was announced at the gala that Susan had thrown in benefit of a new school for the young Narnians. In the absence of a crown atop her head, Peter had mistaken her for just another maiden he had mistakenly overlooked because, by-the-mane, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. And so, he had approached her, as she genially conversed with his brother, interrupting as he, drunkenly leant towards her, disarming her with his bright smile and whispered lewdly in her ear. Perhaps he had not been as quiet as he had hoped for Edmund had heard him, his younger brother looked appalled, "Peter!" He had exclaimed.

But that was not all, for Cassiopeia, who had, until that moment, been looking forward to meeting the esteemed High King, fixed him with a deadly glare. She straightened her back, pulled away from his alcoholic breath and pitched her goblet of wine at him. With a huff, the princess had stormed off, while Edmund pulled him aside and hissed, "that was the Princess of Archenland, you fool!"

The shock and anger towards the insolent girl immediately fell off Peter's face, as he realised his mistake. The far more eloquent King had rushed off after the angered Princess, in an endeavour of preventing her sending a letter home to her parents; and quite potentially destroying a treaty of peace that had lasted for more than a millennia between the two countries. Thankfully, Cassiopeia was not the type of girl who favoured wars, much to the relief of Edmund; who had then joined her in a conversation of mocking Peter - that moment of Peter's unsoundness had cemented Edmund's and Cassiopeia's friendship.

Peter, on the other hand, had grovelled for the remaining days of the Princess' visit, having diplomatically claimed temporary insanity and not being of the sound mind that night. The Princess had finally forgiven him on the last day of her visit, the impish smile on her and his brother's face would have led him to believe that they had purposefully dragged out his retribution; had the Princess not been so strong in her words of admonishment; never had Peter had a thorough scolding - not even from his mother. From that day on, Peter's trysts became a thing of the past, and his admiration for the Archenland Princess turned into an embarrassing fondness (Edmund would call it an infatuation).

"Peter?" Cassiopeia's soft whisper echoed through the dead of the night, breaking him away from his thoughts.

Peter smiled, stepping out of the shadows.


	9. Chapter 9

**Moments in Time**

 **Disclaimer:** Copyright J.K. Rowling & C.S. Lewis

* * *

 **IX:** History

or

"Falling in love is just like the rain. It's unpredictable, but there are always signs before it completely falls."

* * *

"This is harder than I thought it would be," said Hermione as she tucked that one disobeying strand of hair back behind her ear again. The rest of her (now frizzy) hair had been taken out of their tight plait and placed into a messy bun atop her head. Edmund admired the candidness of it. It was very rare to see any ladies of Narnia look so undone.

"I've spent a month on this," Edmund grumbled from his corner.

His eyes were closed and his head was lazily leaning back against the seat of the sofa. Hermione curled her legs and hid it under her dress as she sat quite comfortably on the couch (which was as soft as it looked), but she couldn't help but feel the tiredness seep into her bones. She wasn't quite sure what time of night it was, but she wouldn't be surprised if the sun rose in the next couple hours. They had poured over the encryption with such fervor for hours, but now, they felt drained. Hours of rewriting and shuffling the code did not help in any form what so ever.

"What was your job…back in England I mean," Edmund asked out of the blue, his eyes still closed though his body shifted slightly in her direction.

"I was still in school," she said tiredly, resting her head against her arm, as she laid down on the couch.

"School?" Edmund opened one eye, "I thought you leave school when you turned eighteen or is that different in the future?" He wondered.

"No, that's still the case, it was just … circumstances."

Hermione kept eye contact with him as he turned more obviously towards her now. She blushed as he rested his folded arms against her stretched out thigh and then laid his head down.

"Circumstances," he echoed, sounding irritated. "I wish you would tell me exactly who you are Miss Granger. The mystery surrounding you is driving me crazy."

Edmund closed his eyes tiredly, knowing that he would not be getting much from her.

"Okay."

Edmund's eyes snapped open, the tiredness bled away like water down a drain.

"Okay?" he repeated.

"What do you want to know?"

Edmund smiled thoughtfully, "tell me about your parents," he said, at last, his longing to see his parents guiding his question.

"Anything but that," she said, her face closing off.

Edmund furrowed his eyebrows.

"Too painful or too many memories?" He asked curiously.

"Both," she whispered.

Edmund filed this information away for later.

"…What was your school like? You seem like someone who would enjoy education quite a bit," he smirked, but it faded when she grew, even more, recluse.

"Too painful, too many memories?" he repeated, cringing as his voice sounded mocking to even his own ears.

"This was a bad idea," she said, shifting her body.

Edmund removed his reclining arm away from her and watched as she collected her belongings. He suddenly stood up, realising that she was about to leave.

"Hey, wait," he said as he grabbed her by the elbow.

"Let me go!" she gritted her teeth, her fingers were twitching as though she was about to reach for a weapon – which was ridiculous, as he'd seen her in action and she was useless with a sword.

"No. Miss Granger, I had been far too lenient with you regarding your secrets and origins. This has gone on far too long, you owe me an explanation," said Edmund, his month-long frustration fused with his current exhaustion making him, even more, prickly than usual.

"I don't owe you anything!"

"I gave you citizenship in _my_ country!"

"Should I _kneel_ before His Great Highness?"

"You know that I can throw you in the dungeons for your insolence," he warned.

"Show me the way," she said, her face straight and her head high.

And Edmund had no doubt that her bark did have a bite.

"Why is it so important for you to lie about everything?"

"Why do you need to know everything?"

"Because I need to know if you can be trusted."

"Is my word not enough?" she asked softly.

"If I was a simple man, Hermione, yes it would be. But I am a King and I need to put my country first. I can't let you roam freely around Narnia if you are unwilling to tell me who you are. With all that's going on, it's a bloody miracle that no one has started pointing fingers at you yet seeing as everything that's happening started after your arrival!"

Hermione's eyes widened. He was right. Things have only gotten stranger recently and it coincided with her arrival, with Harry's death.

"You know something," he accused.

"I-," she stammered, "I'm not sure. I'm not supposed to be here."

"I think we've already established that I cannot send you back to London," he sighed.

"No, not that, but why was I sent here in the first place? Narnia is another universe. Why was I sent here when I died on Earth?"

Edmund's eyes widened as he started to catch on.

"Only Aslan can call us to Narnia," he said.

Hermione hesitated, "I met him."

Edmund's neck would have snapped had he moved it any faster. "What do you mean?" he questioned, looking suddenly quite dangerous. "Aslan hasn't been seen in Narnia since the Battle of Beruna."

"Well - he came to me in a dream."

Edmund considered her thoughtfully.

"I asked him why I was sent here, and he said that I had a purpose."

"And what was that?"

"To protect you ... and your siblings."

Edmund looked at her skeptically; he didn't believe her.

"How exactly are you supposed to do that?" he looked over her small, frail form with dubiety.

"I..." _have magic_ , was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back, "...don't know."

"I think ..." Edmund stated, narrowing his eyes, catching another one of her lies, "that you better start from the beginning. The very beginning Miss Granger, or I really will hold you up to that offer of escorting you to the dungeons."

"It's a rather long story," Hermione muttered feebly as a last attempt, but Edmund didn't bite.

"Start," he ordered as he dragged her onto the sofa.

Hermione sighed, knowing that she was trapped and had no chance of getting out of this. If not now, then the King would certainly corner her until he dragged the truth out of her for the rest of her life in Narnia.

"It all started when I turned eleven. I received a letter, from a very prestigious school for the gifted in Scotland," she said, gripping onto her dress, picking at the hem furiously. Edmund studiously stayed silent, his grey eyes concentrated on her as he focussed on her story.

"A boarding school for special girls and boys who had ... _unique_ talents ... my parents were surprised of course ... I mean, they had noticed that I was not a normal girl - that there was something different about me - but when they found out that I had been monitored and selected to attend this school they had been shocked - to say the least. That's how this story begins, about a girl who didn't belong in her own world or the new one she entered."

Hermione chewed on her lips. She sent him a pleading glance, asking him not to make her repeat her history, but he stayed his ground.

Sighing, she continued.

"I had trouble making friends; I was so used to being alone because of my intelligence that when I was pushed into a world surrounded by those who were like me, I didn't know how to fit in. So I did what I knew best, to learn everything and anything there was to know about my new world and to be the best out of them all. Of course, that didn't go down well with my peers. 'Insufferable-little-know-it-all' they used to call me, even a Professor of mine. It wasn't until Hallowe'en that I finally found myself some friends. _Ronald Weasley_ ," Edmund noticed how she said the name quite fondly, "was quite rude to me after one of our classes," she smiled wryly.

"It made me upset so I went to the girls' bathrooms, but that night a monster had been let into the school. I missed the feast, but all those who had been in the Great Hall heard about the monster and were ordered to return to their dormitories. Harry and Ron came to save me when they realised that I hadn't been at the feast and that kind of cemented out friendship. I suppose a near-death experience does that. Harry's quite important because this is all about him."

Edmund scrunched his eyebrows, completely enthralled by her story.

"Harry Potter was an orphan, his parents had been killed by a madman who played a dangerous game of politics of eradicating those who he deemed unworthy to be included in the small society." She flashed her wrist at him, the pale lines of the carving shimmered. "Mudblood, that was the term they used for people who were new to their world. Someone like me who wasn't born or married into the privilege. We were classed as the fresh blood who were tainting their society. His name was Voldemort," a shiver passed through Edmund's spine. "He had a following, Death Eaters, who believed in his ideals about eradicating all mudbloods from their society ... to keep it _pure_ ," she spat.

"But there was a prophecy, a prophecy that said that a child born on the last day of July, whose parents would defy Voldemort thrice would be his downfall."

"And that was Harry Potter." Edmund caught on.

Hermione nodded.

"Harry defeated Voldemort when he was a baby - a freak accident of some sort." Hermione quickly added when she realised that he would ask her how that was even possible. "Of course, he was hailed him a hero, for eradicating the madman. After the _tro_ -bathroom incident, Harry, Ron and I became inseparable, we had many adventures; many plots to stop and prevent evil madmen and the Death Eaters from rising again, but it wasn't until our Fourth Year at school that we realised who deep in over our heads we were. There was a tournament, the _Tri-_ ... a tournament between three schools in Europe, only those who were seventeen-years-old were allowed to compete ... because it was so dangerous ... but someone wanted Harry dead, and his name was entered ... he was only fourteen."

Edmund's eyes widened with disbelief.

"It was a trying year, Harry and Ron fought because Ron was being insufferable and thought that Harry had entered his own name. And I was there trying to make sure that Harry didn't die ... anyway, at the end of that year the other champion from our school died and Voldemort was resurrected in some ... _satanic_ ritual."

This story was getting so farfetched that Edmund felt like he was listening to fiction, but he could tell by the faraway look in her eyes that this was all truth.

"With the return of Voldemort, our world got a lot more complicated and dangerous. A lot of people didn't believe that he was back, and here we were, creating our own secret army at the school to prepare ourselves for the inevitable battle. Our headmaster died trying to protect Harry. He sent us on a mission, to obtain some artefacts that were important to Voldemort, our bargaining chip to ensure his downfall. Of course, with the headmaster gone, there was no one in power to protect us so Harry, Ron and I went into hiding for a long time ... it was horrible ... to live every day wondering if it would be our last. We spent a lot of time in the woods, just us ... on the run like common criminals. Following a clue, we were captured, taken back to the headquarters of the Death Eaters that's where I was tortured." She touched her wrist lightly.

"I was tortured for answers and the longer I spent denying it, the longer I was subjected to the pain," she shuddered violently as she remembered how excruciating it was.

Edmund looked at her with soft eyes, his hand reaching out to touch her shaking ones.

She gripped onto him tightly.

"We were rescued," she continued and Edmund couldn't hold back the sigh of relief that escaped him.

"Being captured had its benefits, because, in their confidence, the Death Eater revealed something. She indirectly told us where one of the artefacts was. We broke into a high-security bank." Hermione deadpanned.

"I wouldn't be surprised if we were eternally banned after the destruction we caused." The vicious smirk on her face was slightly frightening.

"After that, there was only one place for us to go back to and that was the school. There was one artefact remaining there and the victory was nearly ours. Of course, after our escape and break-in at the bank, Voldemort caught onto the fact that we were after his artefacts so he brought his army to the school. There was a battle. Harry died. Ron died. And I ... died."

The dead way in which she spoke was eery. Never had Edmund seen someone look so unemotional when talking about the death of their friends.

"The question is ..." she turned towards him with dry eyes, all her tears had been spent. "Why me? Why not Harry? Why was _I_ called to Narnia?"

Edmund had been thinking the same thing throughout her tale.

"A better question would be ... how can we be sure that you are the only one who Aslan called to protect Narnia from whatever's coming?"

Hermione froze and turned towards him with wide eyes.

She hadn't even considered the possibility.

* * *

"If your father caught us, Caspian will be High King sooner than he thought he ever will be," said Peter as he pulled on his breeches.

Cassiopeia's tinkling laugh echoed from behind the screen as she dressed again. Peter caught glimpses of her silhouette through the small holes.

"Oh, but Daddy's a softie, Peter. I think he's secretly been wanting us to court since the day you were recrowned. If anything, he'll just want to push for our marriage sooner." She walked around the wooden furniture looking fresh and more put together as though their all-night romp had never occurred. She really did have the true makings of a High Queen.

"Marriage?" Peter sniffed, freezing in his motion of buttoning his shirt.

Cassiopeia smirked, walking closer until she was in front of him. Gently, she moved his hands away and continued buttoning the shirt herself.

"You men are all so predictable. You're more than willing to take a girl to bed but the moment you hear the M-word you run and hide faster than a gazelle."

Peter winced. "That's not what I meant-"

"Oh Peter, stop before you say anything you will regret later. It's okay. I'm not ready for marriage either," she smiled widely.

"You-you're not?" Peter hesitated, feeling as though he was walking straight into a trap.

"Nope," she spun on her heels, "I just want to have fun."

Peter smiled and tugged her hand, causing her to crash straight into his chest.

"I can show you a lot of ways to have fun," he murmured against her lips.

"Do all of them involve you, me and the bed?" She whispered back, pressing her lips against his. Peter hummed happily through their kiss, slipping his tongue out to brush against hers.

"Well, that will have to wait," she said, stepping back, not even looking flustered by his affection. "We have breakfast to attend, Susan will have our heads if we miss breakfast."

* * *

"Is he in there?" Queen Susan asked the four guards stationed outside Edmund's solar.

The guards nodded their heads in unison. Susan squinted at them, she knew that security was a lot tighter around the castle recently but why did Edmund have four at his door?

"And none of you thought to give King Edmund a wake-up call?" she asked primly.

"We thought it indelicate given his company," said the one with light blue eyes.

"What company?" asked Susan with a brisk tone. The guards loyally remained silent, as not to dishonour their King with any implications. Susan huffed, walking between them and threw the doors open.

"Edmund, you missed breakfast this morning-" Susan swept into the room, her face tight with annoyance.

Her face morphed into one of surprise and incertitude as she stared into the mess of parchment, books and quills covering the expanse of the floor and the two figures at the end of the room.

On the divan was a girl, curled up quite comfortably, Susan couldn't quite make out her face, as it was covered by dark curly hair. But what surprised Susan the most was the sight of her brother sitting on the floor beside her with his head resting on the table. It amazed her because Edmund was one for comfort, he complained if he was being forced to be anywhere else but his bed at night. Dagger was knocked out cold near them; it was so unlike the Wolf to be caught off guard.

Susan found herself torn between waking them up or leaving them be. She felt an unjustified amount of antagonism rise within her against the unknown girl. Edmund always told her about everything going on in his life, including women. Susan and Lucy were the only two important women in Edmund's and Peter's lives and she suddenly felt sidelined.

Her pettiness overtaking her fondness, she cleared her throat loudly. The co-habitants stirred awake. The girl was first. Blearily blinking the sleep dust out of her eyes, she brushed her hair back and Susan felt paralysed.

 _Her._

 _Of all the people ..._

Susan fixed the girl with a deadly glare. Hermione, who had only just gained her bearings, caught sight of the Queen and smartened up. She cast a glance towards the King who was still half-asleep.

"Susan, we should leave." Lucy whispered from behind her; apparently she had been followed.

Susan ignored her sister's advice.

" _Edmund_." Susan snapped unkindly.

Hermione flinched, standing up to attention in front of the Queens.

"Su? What?" Edmund asked, groaning as the crick in his neck pinched as he sat up.

Lucy let out a loose giggle at the sight of a piece of parchment stuck to his cheek.

"What are you doing here Su?" Edmund asked again, ruffling his hair away from his eyes.

"I think the better question is, what is going on here?" Susan asked with steel in her voice.

Hermione's eyes narrowed at the thinly veiled insinuation. That was when Edmund seemed to realise her presence. Glancing quickly at Hermione, Edmund turned back to Susan with a more alert stare.

"Invasion of privacy much Su?" he said dryly, no longer dazed.

Susan bristled at his tone.

"I came to find you because you missed breakfast, so _excuse me_ for being concerned!"

Lucy winced from behind her older sister. This was not going to end well. She could see an infamous Pevensie row coming up. Hermione, in her corner, shuffled uncomfortably.

"I'm a grown man Susan, I'm capable of sourcing food for myself ... if you can call what we've been having for the past few days food."

"Don't be so rude Edmund! Calormen food tastes perfectly fine if you can just get over your elitist manner. Peter, Lucy and Caspian are adjusting just fine."

"Well excuse me for having some gustatory cells!"

"Stop trying to sound so clever all the time Edmund, no one cares!"

Lucy's eyes widened as Edmund's turned dark obsidian with anger.

"What is your problem, Su? Why are you in here screaming at me?" Edmund asked, his voice hard and low as he controlled his anger.

" _Why is she here_?" Susan snapped.

And suddenly the pieces of the puzzle snapped. Lucy dropped her head into the palm of her hands in a guise of dismay. Hermione looked shocked that this was suddenly all about her; and now, more than ever, wanting to be anywhere but in Edmund's solar. Dagger, who had woken up during the ruckus, glanced between the monarchs and the girl with unease.

Edmund straightened his spine as he spared Hermione a short glance before staring back at his sister with a steady gaze.

"What has _Hermione_ got anything to do with this?" he asked her calmly, his tone emphasising on her name.

"Do you have no sense of proprietary Edmund? What would people say if they saw a _barmaid_ leaving your quarters in the morning?"

Hermione swelled at the insult; her calm, sincere facade faded away and agitated energy replaced it. For the first time since Dagger had met the girl, he felt hostility emanating from her. The girl was suddenly surrounded by a ball of frizzling energy, her hair was on the verge of turning static, her fists were clenched as though she was stopping herself from grabbing a weapon - there was power in her stance ... and she looked intimidating.

"Perhaps I should leave," she said through gritted teeth but addressed only Edmund.

This sparked Susan's anger up a notch.

"No," Edmund said, his hand snapping out to grab her arm to prevent her from leaving. He turned back to his sister. "So what if they do, Su?"

Susan gaped at the show of unity against her. Lucy stepped forward, throwing an apologetic look towards Hermione whilst grabbing onto her sister's arm.

"Susan, come, let's leave."

Susan shrugged Lucy's arm off her, oblivious to the hurt on her sister's face.

"What would Princess Mina think if she caught a drift of this?" Susan asked coldly.

Edmund barked a laugh, "You're not still harping on about that, are you? I only put up with her for your benefit and for the benefit of the Kingdom."

"So you don't love her?"

Did she know her brother at all?

"You do have a set of eyes yeah, Su?" Edmund ridiculed, "when have I ever looked pleased to be in her presence?"

"Why did you lie to me then?" Susan asked with a bit of hurt.

"Because I don't have the time to listen to you badgering me about why I should be with her Susan. It was better to let you believe what you wanted."

"And you would rather be with her?" Susan looked back at Hermione.

Edmund stuttered. His grasp on Hermione's arm loosened.

"-No, I mean -" He stumbled.

"We are not together, _Your Majesty_." Came Hermione's crisp, clear voice. "Believe it or not, but a man and woman _are_ capable of being just friends."

Edmund flinched, he knew Hermione's knack for words, but this was the first time he was watching her take someone down peg-by-peg, and it was not a pretty sight.

"King Edmund and I were merely caught up trying to solve the mystery late Count Edgware left us."

Susan's and Lucy's heads suddenly snapped towards Edmund, shocked that he had trusted her with information that was so sensitive.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a bandage to go change and catch up on sleep lost to trying to save _your country._ " Hermione mockingly curtseyed at them before stalking out the door.

"Dagger," Edmund quickly said, turning to the Wolf. "Make sure she gets to the infirmary alright and apologise to Cloudbirth on my behalf, please." The Wolf nodded, hurrying out the door.

"For Aslan's sake Edmund, she's not a child for you to take care of," Susan grumbled.

"What exactly is your problem with Hermione, Susan?" Edmund griped.

"I don't trust her."

"Nor do I ... at least, not completely. But that doesn't mean that you get to treat her like horse dung on your shoe."

"I think you're making a big mistake with her," said Susan.

"And I think we're done here. You know the way out." Edmund clammed up.

Susan glared at her brother and twirled on the spot and marched out of the room. Under her breath, she muttered curses at the barmaid.

"Edmund, you know that Susan is just trying to look out for you-"

"Don't tell me that you also have a petty hate for her Lucy. I thought you were better than that," said Edmund as he ran a tired hand through his hair.

"No, of course not. I happen to rather like Hermione, but I don't want you and Susan to fight over her."

"Susan's being unjust."

"Well it's a good thing that Aslan didn't name her the Just Queen then, isn't it?" A smile crept onto Edmund's face; Lucy returned it. She walked closer to her brother and grabbed his hand in support.

"Come on Eddie, we both know that she just wants the best for you."

"What's to say that Hermione isn't the best for me?" Edmund slipped out.

Lucy gaped at her brother.

"What are you-"

"No, I don't mean that. But I'm just surprised that Susan was so quick to judge. She's usually not like this."

"We can't blame her Ed, she's already under a lot of stress with the upcoming wedding plans, not to mention that she is the one who has organised this whole event of neighbouring counsel; you with a girl is probably just the tip of the iceberg for her already too full hands. But you have to admit; it is rather strange that since the day Hermione arrived from Calormen, there have been a lot of strange things around here. Just don't be the fool, Eddie."

"I'm not, and you must give me more credit. I know that things have been weird since the day she got here. That's why I keep her close."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"Precisely. I've already learned quite a bit about her..."

"Like what?" Lucy inquired, as she sat down on the chair.

"Well for one, she's not a Calormene."

Lucy snapped her head up.

"What do you mean?"

"She's from the Land of Spare Oom. From England, like us."

Lucy gasped, "Well why didn't you say so? That changes a lot! She can be trusted; I only had my reservations about her being a Calormene. Oh, she must be so lost ... and alone ... and confused! Edmund! Why did you keep it a secret?" she slapped his arm.

"Ouch!" Edmund exclaimed dramatically. "Only until I verified her story. But she's still hiding something."

"We all have skeletons in our closets, Ed," said Lucy with a pointed look, "you can't expect her to tell you everything about her. You're just a stranger to her in a strange land. Dear Aslan the Talking Animals must have given her a fright!"

"But that's just it! They don't! She doesn't seem the slightest bit fazed that she has entered a country ridden with magical creatures. You should have seen the way she tried to attack that beast in the woods. She had no fear. Whatever she is hiding Lucy, it's a big secret. A secret that will unravel every single white lie she has spoken since the day she got here, and I'm going to find out what it is," he said determinedly.

.

.

.

* * *

 **A.N./** Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out! Happy New Year and I hope that everyone had a good Christmas if you celebrate it! :)

As always, thanks to: Barro Cha Cha, Comic Critic, twztdwildcat, AliceinWonderland13, Moonbeam, Summer Orchid and EdhelwenOnieta.


	10. Chapter 10

**Moments in Time**

 **Disclaimer:** Copyright J.K. Rowling & C.S. Lewis

* * *

 **X:** Twist

or

"There is no certainty. There is only adventure."

* * *

There are many things that you can twist.

A knife to the back, for instance. One deep plunge and a flick of the wrist and irreparable damage is done.

Or twisting the truth - Lord knows where a dark, winding trail of a multitude of little white lies could take you.

But the best twist of them all is in a story. Where all of a sudden, when you least expect it, a surprise is sprung on you ... and it was the last thing that you were expecting.

* * *

"They told me that I could find you in here."

"King Edmund!" Hermione gasped as she looked up from her books.

"Back to formal titles, are we?" Edmund questioned.

"Queen Susan doesn't seem to approve of much else, and the last thing I need is for word to spread that I am anything more than formal with you," Hermione whispered loudly, darting her eyes back and forth, feeling guilty for even speaking in the library in the first place. By habit, she half expected to see Madam Pince pop around the corner hissing at them.

"You don't have to worry about Susan," Edmund replied as her perched on the edge of the table, sinking his teeth into the ripe, red apple in his hand.

"I beg to differ," said Hermione as she turned her attention back to her research, but that was short-lived.

Upon the noise of tittering and girlish squeals, Hermione turned her head to see girls peeking through shelves and windows to catch a glimpse of the Just King.

"Looks like your fan club is here," she stated with little interest, honestly what was it with her and boys who had their own fan clubs?

"It appears so," replied Edmund in a bored tone and for a moment, he almost sounded like Harry.

"Why are you here King Edmund?" Hermione asked, the stares, much less his nonchalant attitude in her place of worship, were tearing away at her patience.

"Edmund," he corrected with a glint in his eye, "and ... I was bored."

"You were bored," Hermione repeated, half-heartedly putting her book aside, as she folded her arms over it in a motion of disbelief. Edmund shrugged though smiling with victory as he finally had her undivided attention.

"And out of all the places that you could go in the Kingdom and of all the people you could visit, you came to find me ... in the _town library_?" The incredulity in her voice was unmistakeable.

"You do make excellent company, Hermione."

Hermione rolled her eyes, she'd been around boys for far too long to let honeyed words and impish smiles charm her so easily, but she couldn't stop the blush that bloomed on her cheeks.

"What is it that you want?" she asked.

"What makes you think that I want something?"

"That's usually the reason why people come in search of me," she replied casually.

Edmund frowned for a moment before masking his expressions with a smirk again.

"Well ... yes, actually, I was going to ask if you were planning to come back to help me figure the rest of that code out..." He stopped when he saw the astonished look on her face.

"You want me to come back to the castle?"

"Yes."

"I hardly think that's the best course of action."

"Why not?"

"Your sister, for one. And besides, is it not supposed to be some confidential state secret? Imagine the scandal if the word got out. The accomplished Just King in need of the help of a _simple_ barmaid."

"I didn't think that you were one to care for scandal ... and don't think for one second that you are fooling anyone with the 'simple' act. If your past is anything to go by, I would say that you were quite gifted up there," he pointed to his cranium in reference.

"You're right, I'm not ... one for scandal or simplicity ... but, I'm used to it. You're not. I don't think that you've ever had your name dragged through the dirt for simple association. Whatever pretty-boy image you have going on will be ruined if you were seen with me. Whatever I may have been ... back home, it means nothing here. No one can ever know ... and they never will. I'm sorry King Edmund, but you're going to have to find someone else to help you."

" _Pretty-boy_? Where do you get these descriptions from?"

Hermione stared at his exasperatedly, giving him a look that read ' _was that all you gathered from my monologue?_ '.

"You know, I don't think that I've ever talked to a girl who was far more interested in a book than in me," he said, as she went back to ignoring his presence.

"Oh how pitiful," she replied, without as much as a glance in his direction.

Edmund raised his eyebrows with a smirk.

"What are you reading anyway?" He plucked the book off the table ignoring her heavy protests. "The Golden Age? Well, you must not be reading it thoroughly enough if you seem to still have the assumption that my name has never been sullied."

Hermione twitched, her eyes narrowing at him. Edmund smirked.

"Why are you even reading this?" He asked, flicking through the pages with little interest, his eyes darkened as he briefly caught an illustration of Jadis on the page.

"Because I need to find out how you went back home the first time!" She cried, her hands stretched out for the book.

"You want to go back," Edmund stated flatly.

"Yes," she replied, her voice terse.

"Why is it so important to you to go back?"

"Because it was important to Harry!" She cried.

Edmund studied her carefully.

"You are in love with him," he said, after a pause.

Hermione gaped at him.

"Of course not! He was in love with Ginny."

"But _you_ were in love with him."

" _I wasn't_." She snarled, her face settling into a permanent scowl. "He's my best friend and ... and he's my family, I _need_ to go back!"

"But you said he died."

"...He did."

"Then what is there for you, when you return?"

"The cause he set out to complete, someone needs to see to the end of it."

"And you think that _you_ can finish it?"

" _I_ know that _I_ can, and _I_ will die trying."

"You already died trying."

Hermione stared at him with a heartbroken expression. Her eyes started to water. Edmund grimaced.

"I-"

"No, don't take it back," she said with a hard voice. "Don't take it back when we both know that you meant it."

"I'm sorry."

"You're not."

"Don't put words into my mouth."

"I'm not and you know it. You're not sorry because you know that you are right and for however long you spend trying to convince me that there is no way back home, I will spend just as long trying to get back. And whether I end up in a grave for my attempts, at least, I will be buried next to my friends and family." She stood up and brushed past Edmund, holding her head up high but he could see that she was slowly crumbling on the inside.

"Hermione..." he called out, but she didn't stop.

" _Hermione._ "

She broke out into a run.

* * *

Lucy knew that something was wrong with Edmund the moment she walked in on him practically running Caspian to the ground with his sword.

"Edmund!" She called out with shock.

Whatever spell he had been under, he snapped out of it under her distressed call. It seemed as though he had only then noticed how fiercely he had attacked Caspian during their training session.

She watched as he muttered an apology to their soon to be brother-in-law and walked away, his swords held limply in his hand.

Something was going on.

Edmund had been acting weird for many days now, and it was driving his siblings up the wall trying to figure out what exactly had him sulking like a toddler who had been refused treats. As ever, though, Edmund remained tight-lipped about what was bothering him. Susan was growing more displeased by the day, seemingly blaming the new girl in town for Edmund's behaviour. Lucy had brushed it off, at first, Susan's disdain for Hermione was nothing new ... but now, she wondered if Susan's comments had more merit that she had originally believed.

Whatever it may be, Lucy had not seen said Hermione Granger around for just as many days.

It was time she visited her new friend.

* * *

"Your Majesty!" The red-haired girl said with surprise as she opened the door. The sun had set and the calmness of the night was settling in.

"Salliah," Lucy smiled kindly, "how are you?"

"Very well, thank you, your Majesty, is there something I can help you with?" Sally asked with confusion.

"Yes, actually, I hope you don't mind my intrusion -"

"-not at all-"

"- but I'm actually here to see Hermione ... is she about?"

"Unfortunately not, your Majesty. Hermione left for her shift at the tavern. Shall I tell her about your visit when she returns?"

"No need, I will see her at the inn myself."

"... Your Majesty will have to beg my pardon, but is that safe?"

"Of course, it is! I am a Queen of Narnia. Anyone who mishandles me will have my brothers to answer to," the young Queen smiled wickedly.

"Perhaps I should accompany your Majesty ... just in case ..."

"There's really no need, but I wouldn't mind the company," Lucy replied amicably.

Sally smiled, stepping outside after checking that she had a key to the house on her. Locking the door behind her, the two young women walked in the direction of the inn.

* * *

It was a quiet night at the bar. Hermione's feelings towards her place of work remained unchanged, she had dreaded returning once she had been released from the palace infirmary.

Never before had she detested her work more.

Draco Malfoy may have believed otherwise, but she knew that she was better than cleaning sticky tables and sweeping the floors. She was a witch for Merlin's sake! She just needed to flick her wand and the tables would be cleaning themselves and the brooms will be sweeping away without being need to be held.

But she didn't have a choice. She was not a witch here in Narnia. She could never let them know. She had read about Jadis and her fate. While the tyrant had it coming, her rule over Narnia had scared all the inhabitants into assuming that magic was evil. She was not safe. It was a wonder that she had escaped her use of magic on the beast in the woods. She supposed that she had been lucky that they had all been charged with adrenaline to notice any abnormalities other than a three-headed beast.

She had, of course, heard whispers here and there of the Wicked Ice Witch, and had been pre-warned by Sally to never mention her in front of the royals but never would she have imagined that their hate for magic would be so deep-seated. It dated back to almost 1300-years ago.

Her caution while telling King Edmund of her past had been well placed, he of them all, had faced the worst of the White Witch. She had known, of some matter of instinct, that it was in her best interest to keep her magic a secret - whether that was just the ingrained habit of keeping it a secret from muggles or not being comfortable enough around the King - she didn't quite know. But she was so glad that she had listened to her gut, else she would currently be stuck in the dungeons of the castle than having free reign. And she doubted that the dungeons of Cair Paravel would be anything like the Slytherin common rooms. In fact, as she pondered further on the fact ... the Slytherin common rooms would have probably been more welcoming than being ostracized as a witch in Narnia.

Her life only seemed to get more complicated the more time she spent in this world.

So, without the aid of her magic, Hermione swept the floors and cleaned the beer-soaked tables, and was so pleased, ecstatic in fact, that her shift was nearly over. Throwing her towel into the basin filled with dirty water, she made her way back towards the kitchen.

She counted each step she took, there were twenty-eight steps in total to reach the kitchen - yes, she had already made note.

And that was when it happened.

It happened all too fast for any of the few remaining dwellers to be perfectly clear about what occurred.

But here's what they did know.

Martyn Hayhurst, a sleazy man in his late-forties - quite unattractive if you were to ask any women (balding hair, crooked yellow teeth, and a body odour that could give a skunk a run for its money) - slapped the new(-ish) barmaid on her pert derriere.

Now it wasn't a hard slap, per say; but in an inn that was nearing closing time with only a few drunk patrons remaining, the sounds echoed around the stone walls like thunder. Such attitude towards barmaids was not uncommon, in fact if you took the time to ask, the ladies would cry tears of the inhumane ways they were treated. However, these women were also in desperate need of a job, so they took what they got and never raised their voices to complain. But none of them were - of course - dear Hermione Granger.

Martyn Hayhurst should really have been warned of her ire when she reacted to his insolence by turning around - something no barmaid has ever done before. Where one would expect tears of distress and mortification in her eyes; there was fire. Her rage was palpable. Her soft curls were suddenly frizzy as though they were fizzling with energy, her pretty mouth was twisted into a foul scowl and her hands were fisted, her knuckles turning white with unrestrained anger. The air around her was almost suffocating.

Of course, Martyn Hayhurst was not a smart man. In fact, he was a stooge. So, where a wise man would have backed away, fearing the power this women now exuded, the fool took this as an invitation to pull her in for a kiss. After all, Hermione Granger was in her element when she was riled up. She would never looked more beautiful than when she is filled with purpose, such was the aura around her.

And ... all hell broke loose.

There was a sudden flurry of motions at once.

Hermione recoiled. Her hand snapped back into a fist and then she thrust it as hard as she could. It whipped through the air and connected with his nose. The crack of skin contacting skin echoed off the walls much louder than the original slap against the posterior had. Martyn Hayhurst fell to the ground, his inebriation disorientating him. Jennings, the barkeeper was immediately on Hermione, he took a forceful hold of her upper arm to prevent her from throwing further punches towards one of his most loyal customers.

And out of the blue, King Edmund appeared, glaring equally at Martyn and Jennings.

"Unhand her." The Just King ordered with ice in his tone.

* * *

"Why are you holding me? Restrain him! How _**dare**_ he touch me?" Hermione asked and exclaimed at the same time. A vibration of pain started in her (now red and raw) knuckles and spread all the way to her fingertips. She winced as Jennings squeezed her arm tightly before he let go.

The King looked at Hermione in shock, as though he was surprised to see her still taking action. A pleased gleam appeared in his eye as he stared at her with approval, but she only had eyes for the barkeeper and if looks could kill Jennings would be on his way to hell.

Jennings, nearly folding over in half, bowed before his King.

"Sire! I had no idea you were here. New girl, fetch his Majesty his usual." Jennings ordered Hermione.

Hermione gaped at him.

"Excuse me?" She squawked. "I was just sexually assaulted!"

"Marty is a harmless fellow."

" _I beg to differ_ ," she hissed.

"The man just assaulted this Lady, I hardly think he would be classified as harmless," Lucy suddenly appeared at their side.

Edmund glared at his sister, wordlessly questioning why she was out at this time of night. She ignored him, of course.

"Yo-your Majesty! Of course, your Majesty is right! Of - of course, the Lady is." Jennings practically whimpered at the sight of two monarchs in his establishment.

"Why you spineless coward," Hermione seethed at his blatant show of respect for only those with power to ruin him ... if only he knew just what _she_ was capable of.

"Now look here wench-"

" _Wench?_ " Hermione screeched.

"Mind your words in front of your Queen, Jennings," Edmund warned.

"Of course your Majesty - I apologise for my tongue. You - you won't have it cut off will you?"

"You vile, loathsome little cockroach ... your tongue will be the last of your worries once I'm done with you!"

The two men and women turned towards her, as though they kept forgetting that she was still there to defend herself. She glared at Edmund and Jennings with hate. She opened her mouth to speak her mind when:

"I - I -wi-will-not b-b-be b-b-be-bea-ten b-by eh-eh-ah lassieee," the drunkard, having regained his consciousness stuttered.

The five of them stared at him with varying degrees of amusement, chagrin, and hostility.

"I would stay down if I were you," Edmund warned the man, as he drew his sword and pointed it at him.

Now it has been said that Martyn Hayhurst was an unsound twit, but, however foolish he was, he was not an absolute imbecile. His hazy eyes connected in the middle as they stared at the sharp, silver sword pointed millimetres away from his nose and slowly (and somewhat wisely) laid back down on the grimy floor; keen to look as comfortable as possible. Whether it was his survival instincts finally kicking in or dizziness caused by the volume of alcohol he had ingested was to be proven.

"Hermione, dear," Hermione raised an eyebrow at Jennings' sickly sweet voice, "be a _doll_ and mop up this puddle you made, will you? It is unsightly in front of the King and Queen." Jennings smiled thinly.

Hermione blinked at him owlishly. Edmund opened his mouth to state that the floor was so grimy that the water would probably give it a long needed clean, but Hermione beat him to it.

"Clean it yourself you oaf. I quit."

She turned on the spot and flounced out of the tavern.

"You can't quit!"

It could only be a coincidence that when the girl turned around and faced her ex-employer with a 'try me' expression on her face and her lips pursed tightly with anger. The fireplace behind Jennings suddenly roared with life, forming a large two-foot flame that threw some spittle and caught on unfortunate Jennings' behind, setting him on fire.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock and was that smugness? It must have been a trick of the lighting. Edmund was purely amused, watching as the man ran around patting his behind. Martyn Hayhurst, unable to keep his hands to himself, thought that he could be of help. The man slapped Jennings' behind, effectively putting out the fire but in turn, it earned him a punch from the barkeeper that knocked him out cold.

Oh, sweet irony.

Edmund turned back around to the door, to catch Hermione's eyes and share his amusement with her, but was disappointed to see that she had left.

* * *

Hermione walked at a brisk pace, the cover of the midnight sky casting shadows over the town made her doubly aware of the warnings that the Kader boys had given her. Usually, one of them came to collect her and walk her back home at the end of her shift. This was the first time that she was walking back alone and she had left Sally behind too!

"You walk fast for someone so small."

Hermione screamed as there was a voice next to her all of a sudden. She suppressed the flair of magic when she realised that it was just Edmund who had followed her.

"Apologies, I did not mean to give you a fright." He apologised instantly, as though it had been drilled into him many times that it was said by instinct.

"Why are you following me King Edmund?"

"A King does not follow anyone."

Hermione snorted. "Right. My mistake."

"You're not like the other girls." He cast her a curious look.

"Is that a compliment or an insult?"

He shrugged noncommittally, and she rolled her eyes.

"Is there a reason you are walking in the complete opposite direction of your castle?"

"Is there a reason for me to not go anywhere I please? I am a King after all - as you can't help but keep pointing out."

"Perhaps so, but you are conveniently choosing to walk this way at this precise moment and more specifically, with me."

"Are you suggesting that I want to give you company?"

"Not suggesting. Stating. After all, that was what so said to me in the library, wasn't it?" She spoke with bitterness in her tone, Edmund kept his face carefully composed. "Do you not have better things to do than to stalk the new girl in town? Or is that all that the Kings of Narnia do these days?"

Edmund snorted, unaffected by her snide comments.

"It seems as though you are in need of a new job," he said amiably.

"I'm sure Peter can have something arranged," she said, referring to the eldest Kader.

" _I_ can have something arranged," he answered with a dark glint in his eyes.

Hermione shivered involuntarily at his sudden change in tone. She hardened her gaze moments after, who was he to order her around?

"What be upgraded from a barmaid to your personal whore, a position perhaps one of your fangirls will be more than happy to fill?" She replied frigidly, ignoring his gaze. She had heard the other barmaids talk about his brother's exploits; she was sure that he was no different. Men ... if only they knew how to think with the _right_ head.

Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open as he gripped hard on her upper arm and tugged her body against his until she was pressed completely upon him.

"What has changed your perception of me so quickly?" He asked, scanning her face intently, as though he would be able to read clues off of it ... that would only work if he knew legilimency.

Hermione glared at him.

"Can't trust traitors too much these days." It slipped out before she could stop it. She wasn't sure what possessed her to say it, but the moment she did, she regretted it.

Edmund's gaze cooled several degrees and the grip he had on her arm turned painful.

"Do not forget," his voice turned dark, "that you are a mere asylum seeker in Narnia. I could just as easily take away your citizenship as I gave it to you. You are in _my_ debt for _my_ kindness. Not to mention the lies you've told to everyone who _trusts you_."

Hermione stiffened against him. His firm grip prevented her from walking away ... before more hurtful words were spoken. But she wanted to. She wanted to hurt him for hurting her. She wanted to blame him as the reason why she couldn't return to Hogwarts. She knew that it wasn't reasonable, that it wasn't really his fault ... he had no control over it ... but it would be so much easier to place the blame on someone else for her misfortune.

Edmund too knew that she was being vindictive but he couldn't help but respond to her misplaced anger with his own spite. It was amazing how she had managed to change the camaraderie between them with just a sentence. She fell quiet, and Edmund decided, that he didn't like her quiet but before he could rile her up again with his words, she did something that he did not expect.

She kissed him.

It was a hard, yet subtle and barely there kiss. The mere press of her lips against his sent electricity down his spine, but she was not kind with her kiss. It was harsh, as though she was punishing him for antagonising her, punishing him for all her problems. Of course, it ended as soon as it started, so he had not responded to it - having been completely and utterly frozen in shock.

He stared at her with stupefaction as she glared at him maliciously.

"There! ... Is _that_ the type of service you would like in return for your silence?" The utter disgust in her eyes sent a thrill of shame down his spine for using her trust in him against her but he could not help but feel ire at her unmerited judgement of him.

He growled as pushed her against the wall of the Apothecary, trapping her between it and his body.

"Don't test me." He glared at her, the pale flush of the moonlight cast shadows across his face, making him seem more threatening. "I do not like playing games."

She snorted in his face. "Is that not what you are doing to me right now? Dangling my life by a thread by your fingers? What do you _want_ from me?"

"Your motives. A person who lies about their circumstances is up to absolutely no good."

"I have no motives and I have already told you my whole truth! You need to stop wasting your time on harmless citizens and focus on the real problems at hand like the embezzlement at Court. And let me go! I am **sick** of the men in Narnia assuming that they can treat women any way they please."

"How do you know about the embezzlement?"

Edmund was so close to her that their noses were millimetres away from each other. Both of them stared daggers at one another, hate rippled through them like a flood. Hermione faltered in her gaze, anxiousness seeping in as she realised she had spoken too much.

" _How do you know!_ " He was not shouting at her but the tone of his voice promised his hostility. "Only a handful of people know, so don't make me ask you again." He was gripping painfully at her shoulders again.

"I-I overheard Peter speaking about it."

"Kader?" Edmund confirmed, and she nodded with a wince. Edmund lightened his grip on her momentarily. "How did he find out?" He asked rhetorically.

Hermione remained silent.

"Who was he speaking to?" He glared at her when she remained silent out of loyalty. "Speak now or the entire Kader family will be finding themselves beside you in the dungeons."

"I don't know!" She relented. "I didn't see his face but he seemed to be pressing Peter on the matter. Oliver called me away to escort me to the tavern before I learnt more!"

Edmund remained silent and thoughtful for a long while. Hermione shifted uncomfortably against the coarse wall pressing into her back.

"You're not going to jail us are you?" The way she asked it, with an innocent, vulnerable voice, made Edmund snap back to the moment. He regarded her with a closed expression.

"I promise that you can keep your citizenship and the other Kaders safe if you accept my proposal."

She frowned at him but he sent her a warning glare reminding her of her position.

"I want you to spy on Peter Kader."

"Absolutely not!" She spat.

"That or the dungeons. Take your pick."

"This is blackmail! I will not spy on the man who gave me a home."

"If that man is a threat to Narnia, then you bloody well will do as I say or you will find yourself in the gallows with the lot of them before you can blink!"

"They call you the Just King, but they do not know the real you - you are ruthless."

"It is my ability to be ruthless that makes me Just. If it weren't for my capacity to make the hard decisions that my siblings cannot, then Narnia would have been run to ruins before we even had a chance of returning it to its glory."

"I pity the fool who falls in love with you."

"I think you'll find, Miss Granger, that there's more to life than puppy love. Love only serves to bring pain."

"Sounds like inexperience."

"You're right, I do not have time for such pointless frivolities, and you, of all people, cannot tell me that you do not feel pain for all the loved ones you lost in the war. Who was it now ... Harry? Ronald?" Edmund knew that he had spoken too much when her lips trembled slightly.

"I a-"

"Go to hell." She cut off his apology.

"I'm not sure that a hell exists in Narnia, and I'm sure I have many years yet to find out."

"I'm sick of arguing with you."

"We're not arguing, merely having a heated discussion, and I'm still waiting for an answer."

"It was never a question, though, was it? You and I both know that whether I like it or not, I will have to do as I am told."

"Glad that we're both on the same page then."

"I loathe you."

"...There's a long line of people who do, _sweetheart_." He smirked.

Hermione glared at him.

"How am I supposed to reach you with any information I find - though, I severely doubt that there will be any," she sneered.

"You will know."

"That's not very specific."

"I think you will find that espionage is always best dealt with the smallest amount of details."

"Espionage? Do you think that this is some James Bond book? You're talking about a family's livelihood here. You could ruin them!"

"Or they could ruin _us_. This isn't a schoolyard game that you are used to, running around with your friends. There is an _entire_ kingdom hanging in the balance and if you have any ounce of righteousness in you, then you know that I am well within my rights in asking you to do what I am. If you want to do what's right, then you will do as I ask."

Silence hung between them.

Her eyes stuttered with reluctance and self-hate.

He took her silence as her consent.

"You will report to me tomorrow afternoon. In my solar. After all ... there's a code that needs to be broken." He smirked and with that, he turned around and left, leaving Hermione, in the middle of the town square, on her own.

"Unchivalrous prat," she seethed as she collected herself and made her way home. Her heart weighed down heavily with every footstep she took towards the Kader home.

Little did she know that the Just King had sent his trusty Wolf with her, to ensure her safe arrival.

* * *

"What on earth just happened?" Sally whispered, forgetting her place in front of the Queen.

But Lucy either did not hear or simply did not care as she stared at the disappearing backs of her brother and his ... _girlfriend_?

They had not heard much of Edmund's and Hermione's conversation, it had all been a bit hush-hush, but they had witnessed the kiss and the passionate embrace against the wall afterwards.

Lucy blushed at the thought.

She had never expected to see this day come. She wasn't sure what she had been anticipating when she had made the decision to follow them but she certainly did not think of that.

But there was one thing that she could see coming from a mile away: _Susan was going to lose her shit when she found out._

* * *

.

.

.

* * *

It was like hell on earth disguised as heaven.

"We're screwed, absolutely buggered I tell you."

"Stop saying that," came a flat response.

"But you know that we are, we are so lost without her. We've been in this bloody woods for two weeks now and we still can't figure our way out."

"That's because you've been walking in circles."

"What? Who said that?" The boy spun around, multiple times, a strange stick in his hand, as he searched for the source of the mysterious voice.

"Down here," it spoke again, twitching its whiskers.

"Harry, tell me you're seeing what I'm seeing," Ronald Weasley insisted, his wand pointed at the ... _abnormality_.

"I think we've gone a few days too long without food or water," Harry Potter replied with wide eyes.

"It's a talking rabbit ... a talking rabbit!" The red-head reiterated, his wand hand shaking.

"Of course, I'm a Talking Rabbit!" It bristled its whiskers. "My name is Babbitty Rabbitty and move that stick away from my whiskers."

"I think I'm officially hallucinating," Ron whispered, as he held his head in his hands.

"Babbity Rabbitty, why does that name sound familiar?" Harry frowned.

"Harry! How do you still not know? Babbitty Rabbitty and the Cackling Stump? For all those hours you spent reading that book Dumbledore left behind, you forget the best story!" Ron admonished. "You're not a witch in disguise, are you?" Ron asked the Rabbit with trepidation.

The bunny looked almost ready to faint at the thought. Whatever protests it had was drowned by Harry's comment.

"Are you telling me to memorise a book?" Harry looked at Ron with a stunned expression.

"I am going mad," Ron whispered, looking horrified.

"Oh, dear. Mad? Goodness, you're not going to kidnap me are you?" Babbitty bumbled.

"Kidnap a rabbit? Are _you_ mad? You're not even real!"

"Did you hit your head against a tree lad? Of course, I'm real!"

"Harry, just end me now. For the love of Merlin, please!"

"Stop overreacting Ron." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Er ... Babbitty?" Harry questioned, with an extremely befuddled expression on his face, "can you tell us where ... we are?"

"Definitely hit your head on a tree! We're in Narnia, of course! The land of the Great Aslan."

Ron and Harry turned towards each other with wide eyes.

 _What had they got themselves into this time?_

 _._

 _._

 _._

* * *

 **A.N./** Did you see any of that coming? Yes, that's right, the boys are back in town ... didn't think that I would split the Golden Trio up, did you?

Thank you so, so much for all the wonderful 13(!) reviews you left for the previous chapter and also to those who have followed and favourited this story.

Thanks to: James Birdsong, Guest, Sameen Hadiya, Royal Lemur, craaazyaboutMalfoy, Summer Orchid, AliceinWonderland13, Suzululu4moe, Littlemissmoffey, Comic Critic, and twztdwildcat!


	11. Chapter 11

**Moments in Time**

 **Disclaimer:** Copyright J.K. Rowling & C.S. Lewis

* * *

 **XI:** Doubt

or

"Eventually, all pieces fall into place."

* * *

That night was the slowest, restless night that both Hermione and Edmund had ever had.

Edmund was wrecked with guilt, for the way that he had responded to Hermione. It had been a while since his bitter side had come out. Before he believed that he had grown out of it after his first trip to Narnia, but apparently Hermione Granger knew exactly what buttons to push to make him beastly. If Susan or Lucy ever found out how he had handled the woman; and despite Susan's unexplainable animosity towards Hermione, she would have strung him out to dry.

' _Women are meant to be treated like a china glass_ ,' he recalled her drilling, ' _they're delicate. You have to be careful with them_. _The last thing you want to do is piss one off._ ' Edmund cringed again, he was sure that he had done more than just 'piss off' Hermione.

But that was not the only thing that he was thinking about. What made him so restless tonight was the memory of their chaste kiss playing on repeat on his mind. He shuffled around in his bed again and heard Dagger snort with slight annoyance. It appeared that his agitation was keeping his guard up too, he often forgot that wolves were sensitive to such things. He couldn't bring it in himself to apologise, though. If he did, Dagger would know for sure that something was on his mind and the damn Wolf would not let him laying peace until he put his thoughts out into the open. The mere thought of it made Edmund blush as his thoughts were anything but pure.

He tried closing his eyes again and groaned as her face flashed in his mind.

All he could see behind closed eyes was the way that her eyes had been closed for a second after the kiss and then of how they had fluttered open. In that brief moment Edmund thought that he saw something other that hatred in her eyes, but as soon as he blinked, he was left questioning whether she had even looked at him softly at all. Hermione was certainly a feisty woman; she switched from hot and cold so often that he couldn't keep up.

He grew hot and flustered as he wondered how else she could be with all that fire in her but under _very_ different circumstances. Suddenly the room was too warm, suffocating, in fact. Edmund gasped as he pulled his tunic off, he chucked it across the room and threw his balcony door open, letting the cool wind bluster through. The curtains billowed wildly, matching the wild beat of his heart.

He faintly heard Dagger stand alert, expecting something to happen as clearly the King's erratic behaviour was unusual but Edmund paid him no mind. There were too many other thoughts rushing through his brain at the moment for him to care.

What on earth was happening to him?

* * *

After tossing and turning in bed for several hours, Hermione, on the other hand, finally nodded off for a brief few blissful moments. Unfortunately, the nightmare that was her past and present woke her up again.

" _Harry Potter is dead._ "

' _It was only a dream_ ,' she said to herself, ' _only a dream._ '

But it wasn't.

She was reliving the same nightmare, again and again.

The image of the moment when Hagrid carried in the limp body of her best friend was forever ingrained in her mind. It was painful. It was horrible. But in the grand scheme of things, the hardest thing to accept was that _she knew_ Harry had to die. She had known for some time ... the reason why he could hear the Horcruxes, his connection with Voldemort, the way his scar was painful ... it all made sense. But she had kept it to herself. She had been scared, so scared, that if she spoke her theory out loud, that Harry would run off and sacrifice himself to save the rest of them ... and in the end, he'd done that anyway.

There were a series of questions, ' _what ifs_ ' that plagued her since the moment she entered Narnia. What if she had told Harry and Ron what she had suspected? They had time ... so much time. All they had was _time_ in those blasted woods. They could have come up with a plan. They could have figured something out. It felt like all was lost because she had been too scared to speak up. It was her fault.

Guilt seemed to be an emotion that constantly tormented her these days, and even that could now be considered an understatement. The matters had been made much worse. Because now her involvement in Narnia was no longer innocent. She was no longer an uninvolved bystander just trying to figure a way back home, no because that would be too simple. She had, as usual, found herself in the middle of a mystery that needed solving, and as always, stuck her nose into a business that shouldn't have involved her in the first place. To make things worse, she had opened her big mouth and placed the family she was staying with into trouble with the King.

She found it easy to forget, while in Narnia, that she was no longer at Hogwarts. Yes, while the distinction may be obvious to everyone else; the magic of Narnia felt as comforting as the Hogwarts Castle and she, from time to time, found herself forgetting that she was no longer dealing with Professors but actual monarchs. The weight of what she had done hit her the minute she stepped foot into the Kader household. Now, Hermione was no coward, but in as she was greeted warmly by the brothers, she wanted run. She wanted to Accio her belonging and just disappear ... away from a suspicious King, away from the family who had given her sanctuary, away from repeating all the mistakes she had made before.

Her heart pounded heavily against her ribcage, and her body shook with fear for what she had agreed to do. Her mind was in turmoil between doing what was right and what was loyal. It would be easier to disappear. But she was selfish. Selfish enough to crave the company of human beings and living things after living in solitude and isolation for the better part of her last year. She wasn't sure if she could handle going on the run again, especially by herself.

That realisation had hit her like a cold bucket of water when she had gone from being surrounded by hundreds of students and staff in a large magical castle and in a burrow surrounded by redheads during the summer to just Harry, Ron and her. It had been tough, but she knew it had to be done.

Loyalty could be counted as the biggest strength and weakness for Gryffindors.

Loyalty was the reason why the Marauders had never questioned the actions of Peter Pettigrew. Loyalty was the reason why she and Ron didn't hesitate to follow Harry into the darkest depths of the world, knowing that they had no idea where to start. Loyalty was the reason why Harry had sacrificed himself for them and that was the hardest thing that Hermione has ever had to accept. Because, despite all their efforts, it felt like it was all for nought.

They had all let Harry down and that guilt, that constant gnawing feeling on her heart was why she wanted to return to Hogwarts. She knew she owed him, she knew that she had to finish what he had started. She had thrown it all way the minute she gave up and let Bellatrix win.

She couldn't live with herself knowing that all that Harry, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Lily and James Potter, Dumbledore ... everyone who had died for the cause had all been in vain. She now pieced together why Neville had fought back. The minute he had pulled out the Sword of Gryffindor; his first attack had been towards Nagini. Neville wouldn't have known unless Harry had said something to him. Perhaps Harry had known that he would not return, she wouldn't be surprised if he had finally worked it out. Perhaps Harry had entrusted one of their biggest secrets with Neville because he couldn't bear asking her or Ron to do it.

What made her most ashamed and upset was the fact that Harry had not come to say his goodbyes to them. She knew why. She understood. They would have stopped him. She would have taken up on her promise of living in the Forest of Dean and growing old together; she would have grabbed them both by the arms the minute he revealed his plan and apparated them away from their fate. But she wasn't Trelawney, she could never have predicted their fate.

But despite it all, she didn't like that he did it. She was angry, furious even that he had left without as much of a goodbye. She hated that in the ' _afterlife_ ', if you could call it that, they had been separated. They were always meant to always be the Golden Trio, not even death was supposed to separate them. Who knew what new adventure Harry and Ron were on.

If only they could be here with her ...

 _If only._

* * *

"Ron?" Harry asked into the silent room.

The wind howled outside, desperately battering against the sticks and rocks that formed the home they were staying at.

"Hmm?" Ron replied as he twisted around in his sheets trying to get comfortable on the floor of the Burrow. Babbitty Rabbity's _Burrow_. The irony was not lost on either of them.

"Do you reckon she knew? - Hermione?"

"Knew what mate?"

"That I was a Horcrux?" asked Harry.

He instinctively touched the scar that no longer affected him. It was strange, not that he was complaining, but he had disgustingly grown accustomed to the sharp twinge that came with the dark magic of his scar. Now it was like any other permanent disfiguration - a thin white tattoo in the shape of a lightening bolt to remind him of his past. He would nearly go as far to say that he missed the bloody pain-in-his-arse-for-seventeen-years but was too scared to actually say that out loud incase it brought the bastard to this world by some weird force of magic.

Ron lay silent for a moment; he contemplated what Harry had asked as he remembered the moment Harry had found him in the woods. Ron hadn't hesitated to punch his best friend in the face for leaving them and going to Voldemort. It was only after Harry had hurriedly explained his reasons, did Ron stumble back and stare speechlessly at the cursed scar. Never would he have guessed.

"If there were anyone who could have worked it out, it would be her - I s'ppose," he replied, at last, his heart fluttered with sadness.

"She never said anything to you?" asked Harry, as he continued to rub at the unresponsive scar.

"No, she didn't. She probably wanted to wait until she had more proof - or maybe she was scared to tell us-"

"Why would she be scared?"

Ron sent Harry a scathing look. One that read, ' _because-you-would-have-gone-running-off-to-play-the-sacrificial-lamb-you-inconsiderate-prick_ '.

"Point," acquiesced Harry, to Ron's silent comment, with a nod of his head.

"You know-" Harry paused, as he considered what he was about to say for a moment, "-when I died, I had a choice..."

Ron turned his full attention to Harry, this was something new. Ron tried to remember if he had been given a choice, but for the love of him, all he could remember was a faint roar, and for all he knew that could have been his mother as he was taken away from their world. Ron silently blinked back the tears as he remembered his family.

"Dumbledore - I mean, I was at King's Cross, and Dumbledore was there. Told me how this was what was meant to be and then he gave me a choice, he said that I could come back or I could stay. Only, I thought that when he said that I could stay, he meant that I could be with my family, with mum, dad and Sirius ... guess the joke was on me, huh?"

Silence ensued in the Burrow once again. As much as Ron wanted to hate Harry for making a selfish choice, he couldn't. Because he finally understood. No amount of riches or glory in the world could replace his family, his mum's cooking and seasonal jumpers, his dad's crazy eccentricities and love for all things muggle, his cool older brothers, his beautiful younger sister who was meant to marry Harry to make them all into one big happy family, how Hermione would have completed that perfection by being his wife ... he would give everything he had to have all that back. And then a fear gripped his heart so tight, he found it hard to breathe.

"Hey, Harry?" he managed to wheeze out.

"Yeah, Ron?" Harry shuffled on the bedding, trying to get more comfortable.

"What if she's not here?"

Both boys froze, their hearts beating harder, faster and louder as Ron voiced the question they both had been too scared to ask out loud.

"What will we do Harry? You have Dumbledore's wand, the bloody _elder wand_ and even with that, we can't apparate! And we're in some country where there are talking animals ... I know that we've been in some strange situations before mate, but this takes the lot."

Harry had no response for a while as a slight panic had taken over. He hadn't wanted to think about it because Ron had been right, that night all those months back when he had planned to leave to find the Horcruxes by himself, they couldn't do this without her. She was the general and they were her army. Hermione Granger was the brains behind the operation that was the Golden Trio. Harry highly doubted that he would have survived until he was seventeen in their world had it not been for Hermione.

"We do what she would do," he said, taking deep breaths to calm himself down.

Both boys looked at each other, there was one thing Hermione knew to do best and it has always helped them find a solution in the past.

" _Research_." They agreed with a grimace. And as though that was the conclusion they needed to reach before they were able to sleep, both boys knocked out; falling into the land of dreams, a curious one with a strange, majestic Lion.

* * *

Hermione adopted a ' _what-would-Harry-do_ ' persona as she deliberated over the best method to go about her espionage. Harry had always been the more spontaneous one in their adventures. The reason being that he never planned, he just went running in with his wand out.

She sighed heavily as she laid in bed, unable to go back to sleep after her nightmare. She listened to the steady inhalation and exhalation of Sally's breaths, in vain hope that it may induce her breathing pattern to something more steady. She tossed and turned, as she weighed her options. As unwilling as she was to do the task that Edmund had set her, but unable to squash her curiosity, she threw the covers off her body and stood. Her night slip, that had bunched up around her thighs during the night, fell down to graze against her ankles again. Making a snap decision before she changed her mind again, she transformed her nightie into a witch's robe.

Right.

She was going to do this.

Feeling much more confident in her black robes, she cast a 'S _ilencio_ ' on her feet followed by a disillusionment charm on herself. Slowly, she crept out of the room and travelled in the direction of Peter's study. Her heart beat fast and pounded like a drum in her ears as she reached her destination. Though no one would be able to see her, she couldn't help but take a cautious look around to see if anyone was there.

Satisfied that no one would see the door open, she turned the knob.

It was locked. She was half tempted to turn back around and report the mission unsuccessful to Edmund in the morning. But she knew that would be a pathetic excuse as the King would more likely than not, encourage her to find a way anyway.

 _"Are you a witch or not?"_ an 11-year-old Ron's voice repeated in her mind and that was all the encouragement she needed.

With a roll of her eyes, she pointed her wand at the handle and said, " _Alahomora_."

Magic really did give you the best shortcuts. Quickly, before anyone appeared on the landing, Hermione stepped inside, closing the door behind her as quietly as she could.

This was the first time she had ever stepped foot into Peter's study. It was immaculate. Similar to Edmund's room, Peter's was lined from floor to ceiling with books on all four walls. Hermione felt a wave of jealousy spread through her before she quickly reminded herself why she was here.

Right.

Where should she even begin?

She couldn't risk making a mess as it appeared that Peter was a man after her own heart. He alphabetized his books, his table was clear of any files, and his drawers had locks. The man was thorough. She glanced at the mechanical clock on the wall and realised that she had just under an hour before they all started waking up, she didn't have much time.

She decided to start off with the drawers. A quick 'Alahomora' unlocked every single one of them and she took a seat on his chair, pulling out file after file from each drawer and scanned through them. It was during times like these that she was exceptionally thankful for her research abilities.

The minutes ticked by as she went through each piece of paper, determine not to miss one as it might be the important one, but with no avail.

Sighing, she placed the last file back into its place and locked the drawer again. Hope filled as she allowed herself to believe that perhaps she had been wrong. Perhaps Peter really was doing nothing wrong and was merely conversing about some gossip he had heard inside the castle.

That was just as plausible ... at least until she spotted a piece of paper peeking through a gap on the table.

With a frown, she picked up the letter opener from Peter's desk and nicked the table. Her eyes widened as a secret compartment came undone and files that were previously hidden from prying eyes came into view. Just as she went to pick up the first piece of parchment for inspection, she heard footsteps on the staircase. She panicked as she glimpsed at the clock, damn. She forgot to keep watch. She quickly cast the Doubling Charm on the papers, duplicating everything that was there. Gathering the evidence, she slammed the compartment shut and recast the disillusionment charm on herself. It was just in the nick of time, as the door opened and Peter stepped inside.

Hermione breathed in sharply, she held her breath as she manoeuvred away from the desk and towards the door, as silently as she could. She shuffled back away from Peter when the man changed direction and headed straight towards her. Pressed against the curtains, she stayed still until he moved away from her space. She watched with bated breath as Peter stepped towards the table. He frowned as he spotted his letter opener haphazardly chucked the table, in a skewed manner that was not the way that he had meticulously left it. Hermione's breath left with a whoosh as Peter picked up something from the table, it was almost invisible in the dim light, but as a soft draught passed through the room, she saw it swaying and realised that it was a strand of her hair.

Thankful for the still active 'Silencio' on her feet, she gathered her wits and ran out of the room, the door flying open as she did. She thundered up the stairs, but the house remained silent. She could hear Peter shuffling towards the door with confusion and her heart thumped as she heard him coming up the stairs behind her, though at a slower speed as he couldn't see or hear what had caused the door to open. As deftly as she could, she opened the door to her room, Peter was still a floor below so he couldn't see, and shut it softly. Then wasting no time, she threw the files in her hand into her beaded bag and the undetectable extension charm swallowed the papers up like it was a hungry monster.

She jumped into bed and pulled the covers up over her body to cover her robes. She willed herself to steady her breathing to prove the pretence of her slumber and managed to achieve it just as the door opened and Peter poked his head in. It took the willpower of every cell in her body to not scrunch her eyes shut and hyperventilate. She stayed as still and steady as possible until he walked away and out.

Hermione released a shuddering breath as she gained control over the situation once more ... that had been close.

* * *

Edmund's morning was not much better than his night.

He groaned as his body protested to the lack of sleep and the second he woke up to the blinding sunlight filtering through the window he had thrown open last night, he knew that it was going to be a bad day. And he was right. From then on, it was all downhill.

Susan came in, not soon after, with the announcement of the departure of their foreign visitors and that he was expected to turn up in his best armour at midday to send them off; apparently there was to be a grand feast. Only, to Edmund, that translated as ' _you're being forced to put up with Princess Mina for the next three hours whilst starving yourself as clearly the cuisine is going to be one that was prepared to please the guests_ '.

To make matters worse, Hermione Granger was once again the forethought in his mind, which made him equally frustrated and sexually unsatisfied.

How did that happen over the span of one night?

Perhaps it had been too long since he last wooed a woman that he was now totally focussed on the only woman he had been attracted to in a long while. He was convinced that it was nothing more than sexual attraction that he felt for Hermione. The matters were made no better when a realisation hit him that he would have to deal with her today if she reported to him as ordered. He was ashamed to admit that he felt, in equal parts, dread and excitement at the prospect of seeing her again.

He wondered if she would comply with his orders, he wouldn't be at all surprised if she ignored him completely and didn't show up this afternoon. Though he would never admit it out loud to her, he was actually interested to see how she responded to him, it was almost as though he found some disturbing pleasure with her direct disobedience.

As his thoughts started turning slightly unsavoury and very much less PG, her name was announced by his receiving guard. He glanced at Dagger quickly, just as he was convincing himself that she was here to tell him just where he could shove his orders, she walked into the room with a large book in her hand. His interest piqued.

For a second his breath caught, as he was once again reminded just why he was attracted to her. With finer clothes; as she was currently wearing some weird black robe and underneath he could see a pair of breeches and riding boots peeking through, and with a little bit more refinement in her appearances, the girl really could give some of the Ladies of the Court a run for their money. Still, she was certainly much more pleasant company than Princess Mina - and that spoke volumes about Mina's personality, considering that on the best of days, Hermione was as prickly as a pear.

"Good morning, Miss Granger," he greeted.

He tried to sound as serene as convincingly as he could, desperately trying to hide the fact that she was all he had thought about for the past ten or so hours ... not that anyone was keeping count.

"King Edmund," Hermione replied coolly, as she stared straight back.

And just like that, he was reminded why they interacted like oil and water. Taking a closer look at her, Edmund concluded that she was either a really good actress or last night had hardly affected her judging from her well rested skin and bright eyes. Edmund frowned over his appearance; the last he checked, his under eyes had been bruised so dark that he looked like he came out of a fight. If only he knew of the glamour charms that she currently wore.

"You're awfully early," he said with an arched eyebrow, determined to act as though he too had not at all been flustered by yesterday.

"I wanted to get this over and done with," she stated flatly.

She pulled out the papers that she had hidden inside the pretty dense looking book and gave them to him.

"What are these?" he asked, shuffling the thin parchment in his hand.

"Files from Peter's study. He went to great lengths to hide them."

Edmund stared at her blankly for a moment, though his eyes betrayed just how surprised he was.

"How did you manage to get them so quickly?"

"I couldn't sleep," she replied.

Edmund gathered all his etiquette training to maintain a blank face. Inside, he felt thoroughly relieved and just a bit pleased that perhaps she had been as affected as him.

"It's two hours after sunrise ... you mean to say that the first thing you did as soon as you got home was to do as I asked?"

Hermione gave him a level stare.

"Only to prove his innocence."

"You've read through them?" Edmund asked as he held up the papers in his hand.

"No," she replied, "I don't need to. Peter Kader's is a good man and from all that I have seen, he is loyal to his Kings and Queens and his country. I only brought these here to prove what I already know. I _know_ that he is innocent."

"You may be right about the man, but is it not better to be safe than sorry? I cannot leave any stones unturned through this investigation," he continued when she spared him a response, "won't he realise that they are missing?"

"No, he will not, you'll just have to trust me on that," she replied cryptically.

Edmund pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. More secrets, Aslan help him.

"Well then, let's get to work," he said.

If she wanted his trust, she was going to have to earn it.

Hermione snapped her head to look at him.

"I thought that my job was only to get you what you needed."

"No, I said that you were to spy for me, which you are doing splendidly, but I also said that we have a book to decode, so now I require you to continue your brilliant work and go through these with me," Edmund smirked. It grew wider as her eyes flared with outrage.

"It sounds like you just want to keep me close, I have already proved that I am worthy of your trust."

"Trust is to be earned Miss Granger," Edmund answered, not sparing her the real reason why.

He was pretty sure that she would laugh in his face if he told her that he wanted to keep her around because he really _did_ want to keep her close - but for reasons that were completely the opposite of what she thought. It was petty, he knew, but she didn't need to know that.

* * *

They got to work straight away.

Edmund put Hermione back on decoding the binary accounting as she had been on the right track before whilst he tackled the new pieces of evidence. Edmund almost wanted to be wrong about Peter, the man had been in his ranks for many years, almost since the day that his siblings and he decided to stay in Narnia; so it was with a heavy heart that he weighed his suspicions. But Edmund always followed his gut instincts, and his gut currently told him that there was something funny going on at the Kader household.

Although, he wasn't getting anywhere with his work.

Perhaps it had been a bad idea to ask Hermione to stay. Never before had he been so distracted by the presence of another person in the room. She refused to speak to him but even in her silence, her presence was overpowering. The room felt stuffy, as though there was not enough oxygen to share between them, and it certainly didn't help that he felt breathless every time he laid eyes on her.

He didn't know what was happening to him, it was ridiculous. He had no idea why she affected him so much, why he believed in whatever story she fed him - or rather, why he allowed her to blatantly keep secrets - because as always, she didn't lie completely - as she was far too smart for that. And that was perhaps the main reason why he was so infatuated; never before had he met a woman who had the ability to match his intellect. Normally, he could read people like an open book, but with her, her covers were clamped together so tight that he wouldn't be surprised if he needed a wrench to open the lock.

He felt like a silly, beguiled teenage boy with wool over his eyes over a simple girl. He was a King, he should be better ... he knew how to _be_ better but he couldn't help himself. He was helpless to the way his eyes travelled away from his work to take her in. To admire her bushy hair, that was once again up in a bun. She always seemed to put her hair up when she read or worked. The way her brows knitted together when she sat in deep concentration with her eyes glued to the page, only taking a rest every few seconds to blink out of necessity. He was sure that if she could go without blinking, she would. Her dainty fingers deftly moved the quill at a pace that was almost fast to follow as her script-like penmanship slipped over the page.

He watched carefully as her demeanour changed, her eyes grew wide and her quill scratched across the page at a more feverish pace now. Had she-? He frowned.

"I think I've got it," she whispered.

Edmund matched her expression with wide eyes.

He scrambled out of his chair and ran over to her side with as much poise as he could without seeming like a fool. He stood behind her with an arm resting on the table, which allowed him to lean over her. Sure enough, she had unscrambled the binary. Her pattern leading to each alphabetical letter seemed to make sense. She grabbed for the accounting book and opened to the page where the codes started.

"The first letter there, that's a **D** ... and with the '1111' that's an **O** ..."

"That one's a **K** there," Edmund couldn't help but input.

Within minutes, they had cracked it. But neither party was happy with their result. Staring at them in the face was the same sentence, repeated again and again, a cry for help, a warning, a self-fulfilling fate.

 **DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER DONT TRUST KADER**

"Don't trust Kader," whispered Edmund.

Hermione slumped in her chair slightly as the weight of the revelation hit her.

"This doesn't mean anything," she said adamantly.

Edmund did a double take.

"What do you mean?!" Edmund exclaimed, "this was a warning from a man who now lies in our morgue from an unexpected attack for which the cause is still to be determined because I don't believe that _the three-headed beast from the woods was capable of flying into Narnia without catching anyone's attention_!"

"He's innocent until proven guilty!" Hermione retaliated.

"Yes, but you have to admit that the evidence is currently stacking up against him," Edmund reasoned. " _You_ overheard him talk about the accounts and the only people who knew about the embezzlement are within the high court and _you_."

" _I didn't tell anyone,_ " she seethed.

Her eyes burned with an indignant fire.

"And I have no doubt that you are telling the truth," Edmund replied after a moment, "but you have to see that now I have to investigate. I have reason to distrust him. This is no longer just my gut instinct."

He could see her posture change as she gave into his statements. She knew that he was right, she was just too stubborn to admit it.

"Did you find anything in the letters?" She asked him.

Edmund hesitated. He couldn't tell her that all he managed to do in the time it took her to crack an entire code was read the first sentence twenty times because he could not concentrate.

"Not yet," he replied, omitting the full truth.

He saw her pause, as though gathering the confidence to ask for something.

"Let me help you."

"I beg your pardon?" Edmund asked rhetorically, "were you not the one that opposed to this just under twelve hours ago, heck even a few minutes ago?"

"If you're going to be infuriating then I'm leaving!"

"No, wait!" He called as she turned on her heels. "Stay."

"I'm not a dog," she replied.

"... Please stay?" Edmund asked with an unsure voice.

Dear Aslan what was this woman doing to him? He held in a sigh as her arms uncrossed from their defensive position and fell back down to her sides.

"Alright, um .. good .. well, while we do have a lot to do, I have a very important lunch to attend so why don't you to join me."

Hermione gave him a withering glance. He had this way of stating a question rather than asking it. It annoyed her to wits end.

The silent, ' _if I have to suffer, you have to as well_ ' went unsaid as Edmund knew she wouldn't come if she knew exactly what he was dragging her into.

"I'm here to work for you, not to be your friend, or right-hand woman or a-,"

"Will you stop?" He asked with frustration with a hand on her elbow to stop her wild hand gestures. "It was a simple lunch request. If you think you can survive without food until dinner, then by all means, stay."

That made her pause.

"That's what I thought," Edmund smiled as she huffed behind him but nevertheless, followed. On the way out Edmund grabbed for his crown that was casually resting on the table by the door.

"Do you have to be so condescending?" She asked as they walked out the doors.

"Condescending? Who? Me?" teased Edmund.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her suppress a smile. Edmund counted that as a victory. He was thawing through her defences again. They walked in silence through the corridor until she spoke again.

"Hey, Edmund?"

Edmund faltered in his step as she said his given name.

"...Yes?"

"About yesterday..."

Edmund rose an eyebrow, wondering what she could possibly have to say.

"I'm sorry."

Edmund stopped completely and turned around to stare at her with surprise. He didn't think that she was a woman who apologised ... for anything ... he didn't have her pegged as the type. Clearly, he was wrong about that as he was with many things that concerned her.

"You are?"

"Isn't this the part where you apologise too?"

"Apologise? Why do I need to apologise?" He couldn't help but tease.

Her eyes narrowed and twitched with anger. Edmund bit back a smirk.

"You-I can't believe-!" She stumbled words out through her anger.

Edmund full out grinned as he slapped a hand over her mouth, and watched with amusement as her glare faded. His smile too faded, however, as he suddenly realised that her pouty lips were pressed to his palm. Clearing his throat, he pulled his hand away, though unable to stop his thumb from caressing her cheek, jaw line and down her throat as he retracted. Both their breaths hitched through his caress.

"I-," Edmund coughed, "I'm sorry for the way I acted too."

He never noticed the golden flecks in her eyes before-

"Do my ears deceive me?"

Edmund and Hermione jumped a foot in the air as they were forced to draw their gazes away from each other and to the person who had interrupted them.

"Lucy," Edmund greeted unpleasantly.

Once again, he cursed Peter for placing his youngest sister in the wing of the castle nearest to his. His _wonderful_ sister, of course, ignored him and rather, focussed on Hermione.

"Hermione! It's so good to see you around here again! For a while I thought that Edmund had scared you off!"

"Yes, his personality does tend to have that effect," Hermione replied easily.

Lucy laughed with delight at the light jab at her brother.

"I knew that I liked you!" Lucy took a good look at Hermione. "Was Edmund bringing you to lunch?"

"Erm, yes?"

"You were going to bring her there looking like this?"

Edmund blinked.

"Why? What's wrong with how she looks?"

Lucy's expression turned to one of shock before melting into adoration, almost as though she was looking at a litter of puppies and not at her older brother, whilst simultaneously resisting the urge to squeal or coo. The expression on her face disgusted Edmund. The look on Hermione's face, however, confused him, because he actually couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what her expression meant.

"Come with me Hermione, let's get you cleaned up," Lucy tugged at Hermione's arm.

"Cleaned up for what? I thought we were going to the kitchens..."

"He didn't tell you? Don't wait up Edmund, you go on ahead and let the others know that we will be there soon!" Lucy called out as they turned down a corridor.

As their voices faded away, Edmund could faintly hear Lucy say to Hermione, "it's the State Lunch of course, with the other monarchs-..."

Edmund grimaced. Hermione was going to to kill him the next time she saw him ... which, if he thought about how long it normally took for Lucy to get ready; wouldn't be too long.

.

.

.

* * *

 **A.N./** So so sorry that this chapter is so late guys! I'm actually in the middle of my exams at uni, so I have little to no time to write. I know that there are some flaws with this chapter so I will obviously be editing and reposting this once I finish my exams. I couldn't however, leave you hanging for another month! So here is the imperfect Chapter 11, to be refined at a later date.

Thank you so so much to the wondering 20(!) people who reviewed?! What the heck? I was not expecting that many of you to tell me how much you are enjoying the story! Thank you to: lottiemoreland13, Anonymous (x3), Guest (x2), Unnerdybookworm, faizanightshade, fourthfireshadow, booksareforescaping, Royal Lemur, Sameen Hadiya, AliceinWonderland13, craaazyaboutMalfoy, DieForPie, OOANDISAOO, more1weasley, twztdwildcat and Summer Orchid!

So pleased at how some of your reacted to Ron and Harry's arrival in Narnia! Your reviews made me smile, and it was so awesome that fourthfireshadow read my story and reviewed considering that her story, **Fate's Instruments** (which, P.S. I hope you update! I'm dying for more!), was one of the fictions that I read that got me into this ship!

I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and I hope that I managed, through my rush, to keep Edmund and Hermione in character and of course, you had a sneak peak of Harry and Ron there too! Yes, there's a lot of sexual tension between Hermione and Edmund (what else can you expect when you put two attractive people together in a room?) and yes their relationship is very volatile. They go from one extreme to another, which is one of the reasons why I like this pairing as much as I like Dramione. Edmund and Hermione are practically the same person but at the same time they mesh like oil and water, they are used to being the smartest person in the room, they are loyal and intelligent and are stubborn in their beliefs which is what makes them so interesting as a couple I guess. But when you put water in hot oil, you see sparks, the water fizzles and pops and goes crazy and I hope that this is coming across well in the story.

I hope that you are excited about the next chapter, I know that the last couple of chapters have been fillers, but it had to be done so that the story made sense and had a flow. See you soon!


	12. Chapter 12

**Moments in Time**

 **Disclaimer:** Copyright J.K. Rowling & C.S. Lewis

* * *

 **XII:** Diversion

or

"He likes her. She likes him. Everyone knows. Except them."

* * *

Hermione sat stock still as the Valiant Queen worked her unruly hair into a braid. She had protested heavily against the idea, for the thought of a Queen degrading herself to pampering her had seemed absurd but Lucy would not hear any of it. That didn't mean that Hermione was any less uncomfortable, however. And it certainly didn't help that the Queen's ladies-in-waiting were eyeing her with obvious disdain from the other side of the room.

Hermione hadn't paid much attention to it before, but on the long, awkward walk to Lucy's chambers, she took notice of how alive the castle was. Not in the magical sense, like the halls of Hogwarts with magically moving staircases ... no, though Cair Paravel had its own brand of magic within its walls; it was the animation of people and animals that made it charming.

The corridors were energised with maids and menservants carrying freshly pressed sheets and silver dishes that clearly encased food, a Lord escorting a Lady, young children, and animals who were clearly offsprings of those who worked in the castle ran by engrossed in their little chase game as Lucy laughing at them delightedly, guards stationed several hundred yards away from each other. The stark difference in Lucy's wing of the castle surprised Hermione. Edmund's wing of the castle, whilst bright due to the architecture of the castle, still somehow seemed dark, and now that she thought about it, there were guards stationed several yards away from one another too. Except, despite the blaring maroon and gold royal garbs that everyone who worked at the castle were required to wear in one form of uniform or another to represent their alliance; the guards seemed pretty invisible in Edmund's wing, but their presence was far more obvious in Lucy's wing.

The stark difference between the siblings stood out to Hermione like a sore thumb. She wondered why she hadn't noticed the activity around Edmund's wing as much as she had in Lucy's. In the back of her mind, she acknowledged that she and Edmund had never truly been alone in the corridors; even during their midnight snacks in the kitchen, there was the overwhelming feeling of being watched carefully but she had clearly overlooked it. Why was that? It was slightly alarming how low her guards had dropped in the presence of the King.

The usually outspoken witch was uncharacteristically silent, lost in her thoughts, and apparently the Queen had also picked up on it.

"From what Edmund has spoken of you, I thought that you were a woman of many words, Hermione," the Queen peered at her through the mirror.

Hermione's cheeks pinked. The hairs on her arm stood erect with uncomfortableness and she was vaguely aware of the sharp glances the other ladies sent her.

"I'm sure you brother's not really had much to say about me," Hermione replied, knowing that she was quite an insignificant part of Edmund's day.

As a King, he was an assiduous man and she knew that they only reason why he had been particularly attentive to her recently was because he knew she was hiding something and because he knew that she was of use to him. Hermione was fairly modest but she knew that her intelligence was a well-sought asset, Edmund would be a fool to not use her help - but unfortunately, he had gone about enlisting her help in all the wrong ways. He was just lucky that she was not really one to hold a grudge - unless your name was Ronald Weasley, that is.

"Quite the opposite, in fact," Lucy smirked softly through the mirror. Hermione briefly noted how much Lucy resembled her brother in that moment. "You look surprised."

Hermione blinked and cocked an eyebrow, "Well - it's just, - he talked about me? Really?"

Hermione winced at how insecure that came across, but at the same time, she found it hard to believe that the Queen was not just being kind. She barely knew the Valiant Queen - sure, they had a brief friendly moment in the kitchens that one night, perhaps a week ago, but their interaction had never extended beyond that ... and Hermione had hardly expected it to. Queen Lucy was a monarch of a country and Hermione ... well, we've all established that the reason Hermione still visited the castle was because of Edmund - and even that was only in the most platonic of ways.

"You're all that he has been speaking about the past week," Lucy frowned, looking as though she was puzzled by something.

"Oh," Hermione breathed, unsure of how to respond to such a statement.

"I was a bit disappointed actually, I had been hoping that you would visit after you were released from the infirmary. It was why I came to the tavern last night."

Hermione tried to remember the Queen's presence last night, the events of the prior night had pretty much blended into one for her. Too many things had happened too fast that it had become hard for her to decipher individual events. It was in that cloud of confusion that she had nearly bit Edmund's head off - and simultaneously made a fatal mistake of kissing and humiliating him. She was just lucky that she was currently not planning her escape from the dungeons. Yet, this announcement surprised Hermione, why would Queen Lucy want her to visit her? They barely knew each other and Hermione was nothing more than just another person who dwelled in Narnia.

"That right hook was particularly impressive!" Lucy added, graciously choosing not to tease the blushing older girl - she had a feeling that Hermione would retract into her shell if she was too forward.

"I've been told that I tend to be ... violent, when I'm angry," Hermione hesitantly offered an olive branch and smiled softly as remembered the slap she had bestowed Draco Malfoy back in third year.

"Not a bad trait to have," Lucy grinned, grateful that Hermione was letting her in, "I've always said that women should be allowed to express their anger in similar manners to men; Susan disagrees of course."

Hermione's face dropped at the mention of the other Pevensie sister, Lucy mirrored her expression.

"I would apologise for her, but I don't think that it has the same effect, does it?" She asked as she tied up the braid with a hairband.

"It's okay," Hermione shrugged, "her dislike for me would be easier to accept if I knew the reason, but this is nothing that I am not used to."

"Did you have a similar problem in London?" Lucy smiled gently and continued as Hermione looked at her in shock, "Edmund told me."

Hermione appreciated that Lucy had made the effort to lean in closer and whisper that sentence, she cast a wary glance in the direction of the ladies-in-waiting and grimaced as their glares grew in intensity. Hermione was silent for a moment too long that had Lucy biting her lip with worry, wondering if she had overstepped her boundary. She was put at ease when the mysterious girl replied once more.

"Of sorts ... my best friends are both men, and at school they were - popular? Well, perhaps _infamous_ is a better word - Harry was, what you could call, a celebrity ... he was pretty well known by everyone in our society, so by association Ron and I became a part of the public eye."

"So you became the envy of many girls."

Hermione shrugged, "not to suggest that Queen Susan is in anyway envious of me, of course, but the three of us, we were as thick as thieves - and pretty much since the beginning our friendship was forged and sealed with numerous secrets and adventures that no one else was privy to the details of. I mean, I certainly didn't stand in the way of either of them perusing a relationship ... well - that's not entirely true ... with Harry I didn't mind, but when Ron dated Lavender I realised my own fancy for him - but that's a story that doesn't have a future - ...the point is, that with so many other things going on in our lives, when any one of us tried to have a relationship, it didn't work because there were so many things that we were involved in that others couldn't know about - and I was resented for being the only female on the inside. I suppose nothing makes us as lonely as our secrets."

"There are no secrets that time cannot reveal, Hermione," Lucy said with a sombre tone.

Edmund had warned her that the girl from London was endlessly cryptic and Lucy was starting to see why her brother was so fascinated with her story. There seemed to be a lot that she left unsaid and it left you grasping at the vines for just one more piece of detail.

"But three can keep a secret if two of them are dead," replied Hermione with a sorrowful smile that reflected off the mirror.

* * *

Edmund entered the Formal Royal Dining Room and suppressed an urge to roll his eyes at the opulence displayed. The peacock blue ceiling shone brightly as the sunlight filtered in through the large windows. The unnecessarily lit glass chandeliers added more luminosity to the room; making the reflective cream walls gleam like a large gem. The banquet tables had been set up in a U-shape, presumably to host the monarchs at the head of the table and their regiments on the sides. It seemed as though Susan had gone all out again to impress their guests.

As The Royal Herald announced his arrival, Edmund self-consciously readjusted his silver crown as he made his way down the grand staircase. A pained grimace appeared on his face as he spotted the balcony where everyone had gathered. He started to make his way over, only, his step faltered as he noticed the presence of Princess Mina and the Emperor. He knew it was pathetic, the way he acted around the girl, but he couldn't help his reflexive reactions. Catching sight of a stewardess carrying a tray of filled champagne flutes, Edmund called her over.

"Sire," the young woman said as she curtsied impressively before her King.

Edmund cocked his eyebrow at the way she still somehow managed to balance the tray in her hand as she dipped low. For a King who was known for his silver tongue, Edmund rarely spoke unless absolutely necessary so he didn't reply to the girl, instead, with a silent nod, he grabbed a flute from the tray and drank it down in one gulp. Smacking his lips together, he smirked mischievously at the blushing maid.

"I definitely needed that," he said with a bit more of a spring in his step as he grabbed another glass.

"I would put that down, Sire," came the clipped voice of The Royal Housekeeper, Prudence, from behind him.

"Come now, Prudence, surely I'm allowed to drown myself in this nectar before today's feast begin," Edmund smiled charmingly.

Prudence, however, like the skilled taskmaster she was, grabbed the molten liquid out of Edmund's hands and replaced it with a flute filled with what deceivingly looked like Faerie Champagne but was, in actual fact, apple juice. Edmund scowled at the offending drink that replaced his liquid courage.

"The Gentle Queen and I have worked very hard at making this visit successful, and the last thing I need is for you, Sire, and the High King, to ruin it all."

Edmund stared at the elder lady as she flounced off with a huff. On the best of days, Prudence was just about tolerable. It appeared today she weighed heavily on the insufferable scale. With a roll of his eyes, he made his way over to the balcony whilst muttering curses at Prudence for taking away the only thing that would have ensured him surviving until the end of this lunch from hell.

"King Edmund! You're here!" Princess Mina greeted joyfully, her eyes gleamed seductively as he appeared in their view.

"Unfortunately," Edmund muttered under his breath as he stood beside his brother - who kindly greeted him with an elbow to the stomach.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," Susan commented with a wide grin, "I thought that you would be the last to get here. Where is our dear sister?"

"Lucy was on her way here but she had a sudden errand to run, so she will, unfortunately, be a few minutes late," replied Edmund diplomatically.

"What errand?" Caspian asked curiously, as he leaned closer to Edmund.

"Oh, some last minute changes to the guest list," Edmund smirked internally as Susan's face dropped, "Lucy desired to play dress-up with our guest for her first introduction to the Court."

Caspian's face scrunched together as he tried to determine who Edmund was speaking about. Peter, however, had a look of dawning realisation and extreme worry as his gaze darted between his brother and the elder of his sisters.

"Tell me you didn't," Susan whispered desperately beside him.

Peter breathed in sharply as his suspicions were confirmed when Edmund decidedly ignored Susan with a devious glint in his eyes. This did not bode well. At all.

"Play. _Nice_." The High King hissed to his siblings.

It was at times like this that Peter truly resented his brother for his abysmal choice of timing for riling up Susan. The boy was a complete masochist. It was as though he wanted to make a public spectacle of the Gentle Queen breaking her illustrious amiable temperament. And to be honest, that event didn't seem too far off from occurring in front of their current guests judging from the way Susan's fist was clenched around her champagne flute. It was a miracle that the stem had not snapped off. With desperation, Peter took a large swig from his own glass, before belatedly realising that it was only apple juice. Damn Prudence.

"Take Susan away from Edmund," Peter whispered desperately to Caspian. The Telmarine King had also noticed the escalating tension and moved in-between the Pevensies.

"What is going on?" Cassie asked from the other side of Peter, noticing the sudden shift in ambience among the Narnians.

"My siblings driving me to my early demise."

Cassie stared at him with confusion.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," Peter replied, not really in the mood to get into specifics. He winced as Cassie looked slightly put out by his dismissal.

In the meantime, Mina had managed to drape herself all over Edmund.

"We really haven't had much time to catch up during this visit Eddie," the Princess simpered.

Peter tried his real best to do much better than Edmund at hiding his grimace, though he wasn't sure if he succeeded. And if the amused smirk from Queen Imani was anything to go by, he needed to brush up on his diplomacy.

"Yes, unfortunately with a country to run, I have been a bit pressed for spare time."

"Surely, you could ask High King Peter or even King Caspian X to take on more tasks to clear up your schedule," she replied carelessly as she trailed a finger over Edmund's jacket-clad arm.

"I could also ask my sisters, but luckily I quite enjoy my duties," Edmund cut in with a clipped tone, alluding to the fact that his sisters were also quite capable of carrying out the tasks expected of him.

"Your sisters?" Mina giggled obnoxiously, "don't be so absurd Eddie, the Queens have little time for such chores. Why, if Queen Susan was more focussed on nonsensical things, she certainly wouldn't have had the time to prepare a grand feast such as this."

That, in a nutshell, was how Edmund knew that she was not the right woman for him. He could never be happy with a partner who didn't care about his country as much as he did and he certainly would not pleased if all she did was sit around and plan parties. Susan drove him barmy with all her planning and the last thing he needed was another one in the castle. Otherwise, _he_ would have to resort to embezzlement to ensure that there was some money left to fund more important causes.

"It's _King_ Edmund, and you must excuse me," Edmund replied as his attention turned to the two women who had walked in through the doors and down the curved staircase.

The Royal Herald announced the arrival of, ' **Queen Lucy the Valiant and Miss Hermione Granger** ', and boy did it seem terrible that there was not a title of ' _Lady_ ' in front of Hermione's name - as she certainly looked the part. Edmund was oblivious to the jealous scowl that had formed on Princess Mina's face as he swiftly extracted himself from her grip and moved away from their party - his attention completely on the newcomer.

Nothing could have prepared him for the vision that was Hermione Granger. He had been right before, with finer clothing and just a light dusting of makeup, she went from being a rather plain looking girl to someone who looked otherworldly. Edmund had no idea how Lucy had managed to get Hermione ready so quick, though as they walked closer, Edmund realised that not much had changed in her appearance as the only makeup Hermione wore was a pink stain on her lips and some kohl around her eyes to emphasise their smokiness. Her dress was quite simple in comparison to what his sisters were wearing, a very modest navy, long-sleeve lacy dress, it was by no means embroidered with gems and stones or flowing with a cape. But Lord above, she looked stunning.

As the gentleman that he was raised to be, Edmund held out both of his arms for the women to take. Feeling extremely smug, he walked them over to the crowd by the balcony.

"Hermione!" Cassiopeia called, breaking the heavy silence among their company.

The Archenland Princess moved ahead to greet the girl with one of her infamous hugs as Edmund was rudely reminded of their introduction in the kitchens all those nights back. He couldn't believe that it had only been just over a week ago that he and Hermione had met up at midnight for snacks and conversations and he, for the life of him, had no idea if they had, since then, stepped two squares backwards or forwards.

"It's so good to see you! I thought that Edmund had scared you off!"

Hermione giggled as she took in Edmund's indignant expression.

"Now, wait a minute," Edmund interrupted as Cassiopeia said the exact same thing that Lucy had said a little while ago.

"Well it's true isn't it?" Hermione asked, with a playful smile. Lucy smiled encouragingly from beside her.

Edmund was half taken aback by her complete one-eighty change in personality from that morning and half-ashamed to admit that the trio of Lucy, Cassie, and Hermione ganging up on him was more than just a little terrifying.

"Don't go spouting off lies Hermione," Edmund warned with a mirrored grin.

He was fairly certain that she was going to give him whiplash from her constantly varying personality - he briefly toyed with the idea that perhaps she was slightly bi-polar. He was too smart a man to say that out loud to her, though.

"I wouldn't dream of it, _King Edmund,_ " she replied. The teasing lilt in her voice sent Edmund's heart into overdrive and he could swear that it was doing backflips.

Caspian cleared his throat from behind them, "Perhaps introductions should be made?"

"Yes, Edmund dear, who is this beautiful young lady?" Queen Imani prompted.

"My apologies, may I introduce Hermione Granger, a ... _friend_ of mine," Edmund momentarily hesitated as he weighed what he should call Hermione.

"A _friend_?" Queen Imani asked, a teasing smile forming on her face.

"Yes," Edmund hurried along, "Hermione, this is King Nain and Queen Imani of Archenland, Emperor Loke and Princess Mina of Calormen."

As though she had been trained from birth, Hermione greeted the monarchs with the grace of a Princess - in fact, she was so prim and proper that Susan had forgotten for a moment to glare at the girl.

Peter interrupted before more conversation could flow between the other monarchs and unnecessary details were slipped - such as the fact that Hermione was a girl who claimed to be a Calormen slave. That would certainly be considered extremely offending in front of their current party. Shooting a warning look at his brother, Peter ushered everyone to the table for lunch. Edmund walked beside Hermione, offering her his arm and held in a chuckle as she pinched his hand upon taking it.

"I can't believe that you lied to me," she whispered to him.

"Didn't think that I would let you enjoy Rocco's cooking without me, did you?" He asked.

"You're so immature!" She hissed.

Nevertheless, Edmund pulled out the chair beside him for Hermione and settled her in before he took his own seat at the corner of the U-shaped banquet table.

"You don't have to be so chivalrous, you know?" Hermione said as she settled in.

"Maybe, but I couldn't risk having you call me an unchivalrous prat in front of an audience," Edmund smirked softly as she blushed.

That was one of the many things that they had called each other last night. Hermione's face grew warmer as Edmund kept his eye contact, she swore that his smirk was sinful. She dropped her gaze as his changed from one of playfulness to something that bordered dangerously on being too intimate. It was only then that Hermione noticed the attendance of the Generals and High Ranked Soldiers from each country. Edmund followed her pale gaze to see the Kaders sitting down on the opposite side of the table. Under the table, she gripped his arm tightly.

"Are you sure that he won't notice his missing papers?" Edmund asked with worry for her safety.

"Positive," replied Hermione, knowing that the original copies were still where they belonged.

"Then act normal, you don't want to give the game away," Edmund advised.

Hermione nodded, he was right. She needed to act normal. Peter knew nothing, all he had as evidence was a strand of her hair and she could easily play that off. Breaking her gaze away from the shocked Kader men, with a faint smile in their direction; Hermione glanced around the table, noting that the Calormen Princess was glaring daggers at her.

"Any particular reason why the Princess of Calormen looks like she wants me six feet under?" Hermione whispered as she casually took a sip of her wine.

Edmund followed her gaze and grinned a feral smile that screamed victory.

"Probably because she considers you a threat," he replied.

"How am I a threat?" Hermione asked with confusion.

"Well for one, I'm speaking to you and not her," Edmund said, "and two, I used to court her."

Hermione choked on her drink.

"What - do - you - mean - you - courted - her?" She asked between gasps.

"Edmund, unfortunately, was no better than any other man. He fell for her beauty, only to realise that it didn't run skin deep," Lucy butted in as she passed a glass of water over to Hermione.

"Peter nearly killed him for almost starting a war," Lucy continued as Hermione stared with wide eyes, "It was only the fact that the Princess's virtue was still intact that prevented it all from going to pots."

Hermione blushed at the thought.

"I'm not that stupid," Edmund muttered darkly.

Hermione considered Edmund for a moment and sneaked a glance at the ostentatiously dressed woman sat on the opposite end of the table.

"Funny, I didn't think that she was your type," she said.

"And what exactly do you think is my type?" Edmund asked curiously.

Hermione shrugged weakly, "Not her, I suppose."

Perhaps it was not her best argument, but she was finding it astonishingly difficult to maintain eye contact with the Just King. His darkened gaze made her feel extremely self-conscious - and just how did his eyes turn from molten grey to obsidian black? - that could not be natural.

Lucy stared bewilderedly at her brother and Hermione. But before the youngest Pevensie was able to make a comment on their weird behaviour, the first course arrived, effectively cutting off all conversations. Lucy watched carefully as Hermione avoided all eyes that were on her and acted completely unfazed. That was the look of someone well adjusted to attention. ' _She speaks in riddles_ ,' Edmund had told her, ' _it's half-truths with her_ '. Lucy had been confused by Edmund's observance but now she understood what he meant.

Leaning closer to her brother she whispered, "She seems like a good person. Don't be your usual self."

Edmund frowned at her, "What does that mean?" He asked as he kept his gaze on the girl. He tried not to show how annoyed he felt with the stares that she was receiving from the other men in the room.

"I mean, don't hurt her."

* * *

"I think I just had the most uncomfortable night of sleep in my life."

Ron groaned as he clicked his neck, lifting it away from the textbook. Ron rubbed his numb cheek as memories of late night revision in the library came haunting back to him, except now, he wished that _was_ the case. There were not enough galleons in the world that he wouldn't give up right now to be back home.

"Shh!" Harry quieted him from near the window.

"What the hell, mate?" Ron garbled as Harry rushed over and grabbed his wand.

"Do you hear that?" Harry asked, indelicately gesturing towards the wall made of sticks and stones.

"Bloody hell, is it raining hippogriffs out there?" Ron questioned as the thuds outside the Burrow obliterated the normal silence.

Both wizards ran to the small circular window to see what was happening outside. Both men blinked at the sight.

" _Harry!_ " Ron cried, his voice a few octaves higher than his usual baritone. "Are those vampires? This isn't normal, Harry!"

"Normal? We're in a land of _talking animals who worship a lion_! Look, when blood sucking _anything_ starts falling from the sky, something is seriously wrong," Harry replied with a horrified expression.

"Will we ever catch a break?" Ron groaned as he grabbed his own wand and started casting wards around the dwelling.

The exasperated look that Harry shot him spoke volumes of how _done_ his best friend was with their adventures.

"Just like old times right?" Harry cracked his neck. "So, just how do we get rid of these blighters?"

"Do I looked like a walking Fantastic Beasts textbook to you?"

"Right," Harry deadpanned, "that was Hermione's job."

" _Bollocks_."

* * *

Through the remainder of the meal, Edmund had been rendered silent. His mind had Lucy's warning on repeat. If there was anything that Edmund placed above his judgement, it was Lucy's faith. Lucy always had a good judge of character, and her faith in good people was rarely misplaced. So to hear her say that of Hermione; to warn her own brother away from hurting the girl had Edmund pondering on what could have transpired in the few moments the girls had had alone. Clearly Hermione had said or revealed something that had won over Lucy's empathy.

Lost in his thoughts he nearly jumped out of his skin when Hermione's hand touched his knee under the table. He looked up to see why she was grabbing his attention, and for a moment felt a bit lost when she wasn't directly looking at him. For a second, he allowed himself to believe that perhaps she was initiating _something more_ with him, but he tossed that ridiculous thought aside as soon as he followed her careful gaze to see Peter Kader conversing with one of the maids. She appeared to be handing a note to the Captain. Peter's expression clouded and turned somewhat suspicious.

Hermione's hand on his knee tightened harshly as they watched him. Both of them tensed, when not moments later, Peter tucked the note into his pocket and excused himself from the table he was at. Hermione frantically turned to Edmund, trying to gauge a reaction from him, waiting for him to give her an order. But the man sat stupefied, wondering how he could remove himself from his current company. Hermione turned her head back around to see Peter walking towards the door. If they wasted any more time, they could lose track of him.

Being the spontaneous Gryffindor, always prepared for an adventure, Hermione forgot herself and abruptly stood from the table.

"Are you okay Hermione?" Lucy asked with concern.

"Oh," Hermione laughed a bit weakly, "just feeling a bit peaky, I'm just going to pop to the powder room quickly."

"Oh, let me come with you," Lucy offered.

" **NO!** " She exclaimed Lucy looked startled, "I mean, _no_ , it's fine. I'll be fine. I just - if you'll please excuse me."

Hurriedly, Hermione chucked her napkin on top of her half finished main and all but high-tailed it out of the room, turning right just as Peter had.

Edmund cursed the reckless girl in his head as he threw down his own napkin and stood up moments later.

"Edmund, what?-" Lucy started but stopped as her brother walked, as though he was in no hurry at all, towards the door and the minute he stepped outside she saw him sprinting down the corridor, following Hermione.

What on earth?

Feeling rightfully awkward, she glanced down the table to see varying degrees of confusion and anger. Thankfully not many in the regiment had noticed the abrupt departure of Hermione, followed by Edmund. To those who had not really been paying much attention it just looked like Edmund had suddenly walked out. Except, now Peter had to do some damage control among their fellow monarchs. Princess Mina, in particular, did not look at all pleased and the Emperor, who had his gaze trained on his beloved daughter had a look on his face that did not bode well for the future.

* * *

When Edmund retraced the steps that Peter and Hermione had made, he was surprised when he turned around a corner to see just Peter at the end of it. He knew that Hermione had followed the man as he had seen her dress floating behind her as she ran - which was surprising in itself as she was so light on her feet. He wondered if it was even humanly possible to travel in heels without making a single sound. Though the alcoves in the corridors were fairly dark, it was barely mid-afternoon so if she was hidden in one of them, from his angle he should be able to spot her; but he couldn't see her anywhere. And despite his knowledge, he wondered for a brief moment, if she had wound down an incorrect corridor in her haste.

He cursed the fact that he was too tall and too obvious in his garish outfit to creep around the corner. Risking his luck, he peeked around the corner, only to note that Peter had disappeared. Running to the end of the empty corridor, Edmund gazed out the North West courtyard to see Peter heading towards the stables. He turned back around, wondering if he should find Hermione first but he nearly exclaimed out in shock to see her stood right before him.

"By the mane!"

"What?" She asked, confused and slightly startled.

" _Where_ did you come from?"

"From that alcove there," she pointed.

Edmund frowned, but he had just walked straight past it and he hadn't seen anything. It's like she appeared out of thin air. Maybe he hadn't been paying much attention, she was rather small, it was easier for her to hide in small corners than it was for him. As he was convincing himself that he was losing touch with his vigilance, he noted the familiar piece of parchment in her hand.

"What's that?" He asked curiously, though he already knew what it was.

"The note he received," she replied with a frown as she read it.

"How did you manage to snag that?" Edmund frowned.

"Hmm? Oh, it must have slipped out of his pocket," was her noncommittal response. Edmund resisted the urge to scratch his head. "Do you know where this is?" She asked as she handed him the note.

Edmund grabbed the parchment and looked closer at the page.

"Yeah, it's a motel, a pretty run down place on the outskirts of the Eastern Village."

"Look at the date and time!" She exclaimed, looking pleased that they weren't faced with yet another puzzle.

"They're meeting tonight," he whispered.

"We better get ready for our journey."

Edmund grabbed her arm to stop her.

"What makes you think that you are coming?"

"You can't possibly leave me here!"

"It dangerous, and you're untrained."

"Trust me, I've been in worse situations. There's no way that I am staying behind. I'm coming whether you like it or not!"

"Do you ever listen to what you are told to do?" Edmund groaned.

"Now, where's the fun in that?" She asked impishly.

As usual, Edmund was at a loss for words. He could flirt with Hermione all he pleased, but when she flirted back he felt so caught off-guard. Before he could form words of coquetry in his mind, movement out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention.

"Shit! He's headed back this way!"

"He's probably noticed the missing note," Hermione realised.

She folded the note back up and carelessly dropped it on the ground. Then, grabbing onto Edmund's hand, she dragged him over to the alcove further down the corridor to avoid looking too suspicious. Under the influence of adrenaline, Edmund failed no notice the lack of sound from Hermione's heeled shoes on the marble floor as they ran.

Hermione cursed the fact that she couldn't cast a Disillusionment Charm again with Edmund around. That was how she had managed to go unnoticed earlier when she had summoned the note from Peter's pocket. The alcove gave them a perfect view of Peter whilst simultaneously hiding them from him, they watched with disheartened uneasiness as the man did indeed return for the missing note. Unfortunately for them, whilst Hermione was at a good height to hide in the alcove, Edmund was too tall and a slight shift in his movement caused light to bounce off his crown and reflect in Peter's direction.

"He's coming towards us," Hermione panicked frantically. She fingered the wand tucked into her belt with trepidation. She could stun Peter, if the situation turned sour, but was she ready to reveal her secret to Edmund?

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" She hissed, broken away from her thoughts, as Edmund covered her body with his. His dark features looked extremely foreboding and intimidating under the shadows of the alcove.

"Shut up and giggle," Edmund whispered.

Hermione's breath hitched as his obsidian eyes made brief eye contact with her before his head dipped into the crook of her neck. He didn't dare touch her, his nose precariously tickled the skin of her neck but he made no further advancements. Hermione realised, however, that for someone who viewed them from a different angle, their position looked particularly compromising. Realising his plan, she opened her mouth to obey, but instead of simpering like a brainless girl, Hermione gasped throatily, mimicking a sound she had unfortunately overheard Lavender Brown make whilst making out with Ron. As soon as it escaped from her lips, however, she blushed beet-red and wished that she could swallow it back. Oh, how awkward! Edmund must think that she was so wanton.

Edmund, however, was so discombobulated by Hermione's take on deception that he jerked forwards in shock and embarrassingly found his lips pressed into the tempting hollow between her collar bone and neck. This time, the gasp that escaped Hermione was far more husky in the most delicious of ways that Edmund found himself seizing the curve of her waist in his large hands. He vaguely registered the hard stick like object tucked against the right side of her waist, but it was hardly the most important thing on his mind.

Suddenly it went from being a fairly convincing illusion so something that was far too sultry and treading on the edge of being dicey. Edmund knew that there was a lot of sexual tension between them, the kiss last night from her had been evidence of that, but he hadn't really weighed how much until this moment and it suddenly became too hard to keep his hands off her. All of the unsavoury thoughts from his restless night came crashing back to him in one large breathless wave and suddenly Hermione was pressed within every inch of her life against his warm body.

Hermione was equally out of breath, though she had hardly yet indulged in any activity that would cause such deprivation of oxygen. For a second she was taken back to the moment they had in the woods when Edmund had covered her body underneath his to protect her from the three-headed beast. And then, she felt his teeth nip at her skin while his lips closed in on the area with a sucking motion and all thoughts drained out of her mind like sand through a grate. Lost in the glorious moment, Hermione's hands gained a mind of their own as they travelled up Edmund's chiseled chest to his shoulders. Where, in a burst of confidence, she wrapped her hands around his neck and ran her right hand freely through his soft hair, bringing him closer to her and further providing him the encouragement to continue.

At that same moment, Edmund's crown slipped off his head and rolled a few feet away from them; while Peter appeared behind Edmund with his sword pointed at the hidden couple.

"Show yourselves," the Captain ordered.

Edmund nearly groaned with complete resentment as the blissful moment was ripped away from him. In those short seconds, he had honestly forgotten why they had been hiding in the alcove in the first place. Putting on his best game face; whilst shamefacedly avoiding Hermione's eyes, he stepped out of the shadows.

"Your Highness!" Peter exclaimed in shock, quickly withdrawing his sword with haste.

Edmund fought to keep the grimace off his face, repeatedly reminding himself that he had to act normal.

"Captain," Edmund greeted with a nod. Though naturally, he was unable to hide his burning cheeks. Edmund fought the urge to punch the untrustworthy man as he grinned at him. That grin slid right off his face when Hermione, who was blushing as bright as a tomato stepped out of the shadows too.

"Hermione!" Peter exclaimed, looking aghast, "What in Aslan's name are you doing?" The man questioned his charge.

Unable to find the voice to defend herself, Hermione kept her gaze trained on the ground, not able to meet either man's eyes. Not that Edmund was looking in her direction anyway.

" _Edmund Pevensie_!"

All three of their heads snapped in the direction of the bellow and Hermione's face dropped at the sight of the assembly of monarchs of Narnia and neighbouring countries; at whose feet laid Edmund's crown. If her cheeks could burn darker, they did and in a very uncharacteristic move, she positioned herself behind Edmund to hide from the hatred pouring from Queen Susan's and Princess Mina's eyes.

Edmund however, faced his company with a poker face, noting that for the most part, Peter, Caspian, Lucy and Cassie, while stunned, looked equally amused. As for King Nain and Queen Imani, their eyes were shining with mirth, but like true monarchs, their actual expression betrayed no emotion. Susan looked as though she wanted to blame Hermione for everything wrong with the world and Mina was glaring daggers so sharp that Edmund knew if they were real, he would be dead ten times over. The Emperor, on the other hand, looked worryingly thoughtful.

"Can I help you?" replied Edmund, as though he had not in fact been caught canoodling in an alcove.

Hermione sighed deeply behind Edmund, she was still aware of Peter staring at her from the side. Never before had she been in such a compromising and humiliating position.

Oh, where was Ron or the Weasley Twins when you needed the comic relief? And as that thought passed through her head, she couldn't help but imagine the perhaps dumbstruck look on Ron's and Harry's face had they been here under different circumstances and the equally scandalised but encouraging grins on Fred and George's face at the perfect prefect Hermione Granger doing something completely impetuous. A picture of their reactions became ingrained in her mind and a short, fond giggle escaped her lips. She pressed a hand to her mouth to contain her hilarity; but when Edmund turned around to stare at her; his stone mask cracking with his bewilderment, she lost it. Perhaps she looked insane, but the situation was far too ridiculous to not laugh at, and as the snickers escaped through her clasped mouth, Edmund bit his lip, trying to hold in his own amusement. But he was not immune to her infectious laugh, and he found himself smirking, his grey eyes shining bright with mirth.

"Oh my god," Hermione whispered and Edmund couldn't help but agree with her. Aslan give him the strength to deal with his family and friends.

.

.

.

* * *

 **A.N./** Am I evil? MWAHAHAHAHA! Would you look at that, for the first time Hermione was in enough of a good headspace to think of Ron and Harry in an amusing way rather than with sadness and regret. That isn't to say that Hermione won't be feeling guilty for 'betraying' Ron...

As for **_The Adventures of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley_** , well, the boys are getting some unwanted attention in Narnia - what _is_ happening, I wonder? We will catch up with the boys in more detail in the next chapter - and though things may seem uncorrelated at the moment, trust me, I do have a plan and it will all make sense. It's down to you, dear readers, to keep guessing until I let you in.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Stay tuned for more!

I know that my update schedule has been pretty slow, so I apologise to my dedicated readers for having to wait so long for a new chapter! But now that exams are over, this story has my full attention. On we go. I'm pleased that generally my reviews have been positive, which means I must be doing something right, right? With a ship like _EdmundxHermione_ it is a bit of a challenge to bring together two different worlds, whilst still trying to keep everyone in character and with little other inspiration as only a handful of fics on this couple exist, my imagination really does have to run an extra mile!

So, thank you so, so much to these wonderful people who reviewed the last chapter: LackingDelirium, Bananaphobia, Anon, craaazyaboutMalfoy, Summer Orchid, AliceinWonderland13, faizanightshade, Guest, twztdwildcat, and Parsi! Your continued support is very much appreciated, and to be honest without those special reviews, I don't think that I would have the inspiration to continue this story, so please keep them coming!


	13. Chapter 13

**Moments in Time**

 **Disclaimer:** Copyright J.K. Rowling & C.S. Lewis

* * *

 **XIII:** Moonlight

or

"The sun sees your body, the moon sees your soul."

* * *

It was intriguing how history sometimes tended to forget details. History doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme.

History liked to remember the Kings and Queen of Narnia from the Golden Age as legends. It liked to remember King Edmund the Just, Duke of Lantern Waste, Count of the Western March and Knight of the Noble Order of the Table as a redeemed traitor shown by his bravery and honour. Aslan had given Edmund his first two titles, but the others were earned and gifted to him by the people of Narnia. He was the Sword of Narnia, second to only Peter himself; he was Silvertongue, the mischievous, dry-witted and rather sarcastic ruler. History painted Edmund's triumphs, but it rarely spoke of the struggle he went through for most of his first few years in Narnia, in his vain attempts to prove his worth.

Susan was remembered foremostly as the Queen Susan the Gentle or the Queen of the Horn. History only spoke of her as the fairest lady in all of Narnia and its neighbouring lands; but there was hardly ever a mention of Susan's logical (to the point of being stubborn), motherly and serious disposition. Lucy was the Valiant Queen, yet the history books barely spoke of her trials at battle. At first, it had baffled Peter even, when Aslan had named his youngest sister 'the Valiant' - for someone as sweet as Lucy couldn't be so fierce, surely. But as she grew older, Peter understood. There was a fire in Lucy that could never be extinguished. Lucy was always on the frontline of the battlefield, bravely choosing to fight beside her brothers whilst her older sister held a vigil at The Cair.

But these were all rather trivial in detail when one considered the weight of things. For, what history had completely failed to mention was what they all had left behind when they had left Narnia. He may be High King Peter the Magnificent, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Lord of Cair Paravel, and Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Table; but once he had been a husband and a father.

Of his siblings, he had lost the most when they had walked out of Narnia unknowingly. Whilst Lucy mourned the loss of her friends, the many creatures and subjects she had managed to befriend during their reign; Susan, her archers and Edmund, his trustworthy advisors - Peter had been the only one to form a family. And how it had hurt. How it still hurts. When they had reentered, he had prayed, hoped, to be able to see his child and wife once more. Alas, he had been thirteen hundred years too late. After the Second Battle of Beruna, he had hoped that he would be able to find out about his family. Had they escaped the invasion? Had they survived? Had they lived a long, happy life elsewhere? Perhaps there was something in the books that Professor Cornelius had managed to save, so he enlisted the help of Edmund and they had scoured every history books for days on end. In the end, Edmund had placed his hand on his shoulder and whispered: "I'm sorry,". Peter couldn't blame him, it was hardly his fault, after all, it had been his idea to chase the White Stag in the first place - "Me too," he had replied, as he walked away from his pain. Thus began his escapades.

He was sure that Edmund had something to do with the fact that Susan had never come to reprimand him for his behaviour but he hardly would have cared if she did. He had hoped that losing himself in throes of passion would make his forget but it was never enough. No one could replace his wife, and certainly not his child. He wondered if his baby had a chance to grow up, to be the beautiful woman he knew that she would have been - just like her mother. The hole in his heart seemed like a void until he had stumbled across Cassiopeia.

For the first time, he didn't think of his wife as he stared at her. He didn't remember the pain but felt hope. Perhaps Aslan was allowing him a chance to be wholly happy again. That wasn't too much to ask for, right? And he had been so selfishly wrapped up in his own happiness that he had completely blanked out on his siblings.

Since when did Edmund start cavorting with barmaids around the castle in the middle of a state lunch? How had he been so completely unaware that his little brother was completely besotted? He knew that this one was different. Peter had witnessed Edmund and Mina, he had known, as he watched his brother lust over the Calormen Princess that it would never go anywhere. As a High King, he should not have let their relationship go as far as it did, with the knowledge that she was a poor match for his brother, but he couldn't bear to take it away from Edmund. He was a grown man, after all, he could make his own mistakes and learn from them. What Peter hadn't expected, however, was to see Edmund gallivanting around with a simple girl. He knew that his brother was not a saint; Edmund may be better at keeping his escapades a secret, but servants talked, and eventually the news did spread. But Peter had always expected Edmund to be the one in the family to marry for convenience. Edmund was different to the rest of them. His emotions ranged from white-hot anger to a softness that was only reserved for family.

But he had seen the way that Edmund had looked at Hermione Granger as she walked down the staircase of the Feasting Room with Lucy. It was an expression that was so similar to what Caspian wore when Susan was in the same room and that was when Peter realised how deep in his brother was, whether he realised it or not.

Peter Pevensie stood facing the window in his solar, pondering. Last time in Narnia, he had found the love of his life. This time, he was sure that Edmund had found his - even if the boy didn't realise it yet. He finally saw why Susan had been walking around the castle looking like a toy that had been wound too tight. She had reacted the same way before he had married, after all - and everything had worked out in the end. Susan had accepted Lillian into the family and she had been the most doting aunt to Evelyn. Peter could sense that history would repeat itself once more. Though, he sent a prayer to Aslan - wishing that his brother would never have to feel the pain of losing his family before they had a chance to really live a life together.

* * *

The room was filled with so much tension that it was extremely uncomfortable. It didn't help at all that his siblings were in the room with him and were completely silent. Glenstorm and Trumpkin stood to the far side of the room and he was sure that Reep was hanging up on the beams somewhere above them - they were practically a part of the family. Usually, when the room was full like this, it was boisterous and practically impossible to hear one another over the laughter and chatter. Today, however, each one of them either didn't want to talk to the other or felt like they had nothing to say. Never before had Peter been put in such a difficult situation with all three of his siblings, well two really, because Lucy was the only one who seemed to be behaving as of late.

He took a deep breath and briefly pinched the bridge of his nose to gather his strength before he turned around to face the music. Edmund, the cretin, was casually stood near to the door, and he looked like he had no care in the world and didn't even consider himself as the root of the current problem. No, in fact, Edmund just looked as though he was here for a light, casual conversation with the way his left foot was resting against the wall and his arms crossed. The only thing that gave away his defensiveness was the squared shoulders, straight spine and the absolute determination to avoid all eyes that were trained on him.

The monarchs and people of both Calormen and Archenland had decided to leave early; seeing as their meal had been disrupted. Peter wasn't sure where the Caloremen girl, Hermione, had gone but he had seen Edmund speaking quietly to his guard, Dagger, prior to Peter's announcement for a family meeting. Peter had long since lost count of the number of years he'd lived, but he was sure that after all this time, Edmund could read him like an open book. There was not much that Peter could hide from Edmund and Peter was sure that Edmund could predict his next move as easily as he did during a chess game. Peter's eyes flew over to the fireplace to share a glance with Caspian; the man looked as exasperated as Peter felt.

They had come a long way, Caspian and him; not that things were so bad to start off with - but Caspian's hero worship had been slowly fading over the past few years and he was really coming into his kingship. Peter felt almost proud of the way Caspian now held himself. He was no longer the anxious boy declining his rightful place on the throne, showing preference to the Kings and Queens of Old; but rather, a strong, decisive, dependable leader and a brother in arms. A man Peter was proud to be able to call his brother-in-law soon.

 _For once_ , he thought, _could things not go smoothly around here?_

Susan and Lucy sat together on the sofa; Lucy perhaps the more relaxed of the two, and maybe of all of them as she was the only one who seemed hardly affected. If Peter knew better, which he did, he would say that his youngest sister was finding this situation all too amusing, as always, her playful eyes were lit with merriment. Susan, however, was at the complete opposite end of that spectrum. Peter fought the urge to groan. Anger and stress were rolling off Susan in waves.

Peter cleared his throat awkwardly, how should he even approach the subject? He never had this problem the last time they were in Narnia. During the Golden Age, Edmund had been all too focussed on proving himself and being the best monarch of the four that Peter never had to reprimand him - at least not over such trivial matters as this. But now it seemed as though, without the need to validate his regency, Edmund was enjoying being a young man in his prime. Peter could hardly blame his brother, anything he said against Edmund would be hypocritical and he was sure that everyone in the room knew it, even Lucy. What Peter had never expected, however, was to deal with an insurgent Edmund. His brother took his duties very seriously, so Peter had been shocked, to say the least, when the boy had practically run after the girl in the middle of a state lunch.

Blinking his thoughts away, Peter looked around the room clearly and realised that they were all waiting expectantly for him to speak.

"W-well," Peter stuttered, scratching the back of his neck as he squared his eyes on his brother.

Unperturbed, Edmund stared back with unblinking eyes. It wasn't often that Peter found himself staring into Edmund's cool gaze these days - they really had worked hard at overcoming whatever discord they had as children. So when he was forced into a situation where Edmund was pitted against him, outside the training grounds; Peter felt pity for all those noblemen Edmund had stared down with those exact cold, calculating eyes. In that moment, Peter appreciated how intimidating his brother was, and he knew, in the back of his mind, that Edmund wasn't even aware of how he was exuding his presence. It was a kind of reflexive, defensive stance that Edmund often fell back on when he was forced into a corner unwillingly and was willing to do anything and everything to remove himself from between the rock and hard place. This was one of Edmund's finest qualities that Peter respected when they stood on the same side of the battlefield, but in this moment, it seemed as though Edmund felt that they were all against him.

"Ed," Peter tried again, "do you want to explain yourself?" Peter asked, treading with caution.

Now the High King was no wimp in comparison to his younger brother, in fact, when drawn to his full height and passion, Peter could be equally, if not more, threatening - but the High King also knew when to pick his battles. Peter had learnt at a very young age that one should not rattle Edmund's cage when he felt cornered as the consequences were rarely a pretty sight.

Unfortunately, it seemed as though it was one of those days where Edmund was willing to push all their buttons until one of _them_ snapped - as Edmund responded to his question with a noncommittal shrug. Peter bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from playing right into Edmund's hands. However, today, it seemed as though it wasn't his turn to pick a fight with Edmund as Susan seemed quite prepared to do it for him.

"You have nothing to say?" She asked in a cold, slow voice.

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter saw Caspian flinch at the tone. Clearly, the Telmarine King had been at the receiving end of that tone before and knew what followed. Lucy, bless her soul, was quickly becoming to realise the position she had put herself in when she had chosen to take a seat next to Susan, as she was now, stuck in the middle of their battle.

Peter's eyes fluttered as Edmund remained adamantly silent.

" _Do you have any idea how much embarrassment you have caused?_ " A shrill shriek escaped her lips.

Peter flinched more visibly this time as he instinctively stepped back - only to find that he had nowhere else to go as his back pressed against the wall-sized window. Lucy shrunk into the sofa, with a hand over her face - as though she was hoping that it would miraculously make the situation go away. If only.

One of the most unnerving things about Edmund was the way he would calmly stare back at you with an impassive face. Any other person, when forced into a situation such as this would have looked at their feet, or at the very least, anywhere but at the person who was screaming at you; but not Edmund. The only indication that Peter had that suggested that Edmund was present at the situation was the way his silvery-blue eyes darkened to a stormy-grey with every word that slipped out of Susan's mouth. That in itself was enough to tell Peter that this was going to end in tears, and Edmund would not be the one crying.

"- _and of all the things that you could have done to discredit us you ran out of a state luncheon after that **harlot**! Have you no sense_ -"

Peter had been too fixated with the new octave that Susan's shrilly voice had taken that he completely missed Edmund's move towards their sister. Suddenly, the black-haired boy was right in front of Susan, with his hand gripping her arm in an unpleasant grip. Lucy let out a startled gasp as she opened her eyes to the scene.

"Don't call her that," Edmund hissed through his teeth, sounding every inch the infamous Sword of Narnia.

Peter started moving towards them, as did Caspian. To the side somewhere, he heard Trumpkin choke on his own spit; and he was sure that if it was not considered treason, he would have heard Glenstorm unsheathing his sword. My, what a turn this conversation had taken. He had completely misjudged the situation - things now bordered on turning extremely sour and as afraid as Peter was to admit it - _dangerous_.

Susan looked momentarily astonished by Edmund's actions and words before her ire slipped in.

"Touched a nerve, have I?" Susan sneered, though the hurt was vividly evident in her eyes.

Edmund either did not notice - which Peter highly doubted - or did not care - which scared Peter beyond all rational thought. For an indifferent Edmund, meant an extremely unpredictable situation.

"Susan, shut up," Peter growled as he stepped in between his siblings.

Giving his brother a sharp look, Peter removed Susan's hand from Edmund's grip. The High King grimaced at the obvious, angry-looking handprint on Susan's arm. Passing his sister off to Caspian, Peter gazed at Edmund trying to understand where he was coming from. But Edmund seemed keen to play the bull in the china shop today; he had absolutely no sense of control over the damage he could inflict not did it seem like he wanted to seize anew the reins on his anger. For the first time that night, Peter felt his anger build.

"She's not from Calormen," Lucy spoke, cutting into the tense atmosphere with her timid voice.

Peter turned to look at his youngest sister with confusion, as did everyone else in the room; but apparently, this was no news to Edmund - _what a surprise_.

"What are you talking about?" Peter questioned, feeling completely out of the loop.

"She's from London, like us," Lucy cleared up.

Peter turned to Edmund sharply, frowning deeply at the boy. Why had Edmund kept that a secret?

"Why are you telling us this now?" Caspian asked from behind, sounding justly annoyed. Glenstorm seemed to snort in the background, as though agreeing.

"It was not of national importance," Edmund snapped.

This time, Peter was sure that it was Trumpkin who made a noise of concord. Really, if a stranger sat in this room with them now, it wouldn't be too hard to tell where the dwarf and centaur held their alliance. In fact, the only one who could be considered impartial was Reepicheep and that was probably only because you heard the mouse when he wanted you to. But even Peter was not blind to the fact that the mouse held a stronger alliance with Edmund as part of his Secret Service and Lucy - then again, when it came down to it, everyone would choose Lucy.

" _Edmund_ ," Peter ground through his teeth, bringing himself back to the matter at hand, "if a girl who claims to be an ex-Caloremen slave and instead turns out to be a world traveller; I _think_ we needed to know."

Edmund frowned and Peter knew that his brother knew that he had been wrong to keep this information to himself, but was also too stubborn to admit it right now.

"How long have you known?" Susan inquired quietly, as she rubbed on her sore arm.

"Since the day you found her in Ed's room."

"You've known for that long?" she exclaimed.

"He would have told you too if you didn't jump down his throat about her every time you spoke to him," replied Lucy.

"Since when did this family keep secrets from each other?"

"It was hardly our secret to tell, Su. If anything, we were hoping that once she felt comfortable, she would tell everyone herself."

"That's beside the point, we are _all_ Kings and Queens of this country! It won't work if we start keeping things from each other! We're a family for Aslan's sake!"

"Susie, you can't be hypocritical, you don't tell them everything either," Caspian interjected, looking rather uncomfortable.

That was one thing that you could always expect from Caspian. Peter wasn't sure if it was due to his upbringing or the harsh wake-up call the man had had a few years ago regarding his family, but he always spoke the truth. Even if it put him in hot water.

"What is he talking about?" Edmund asked, and for the first time that night he didn't look as though he wanted to tear anyone apart at the limbs.

Peter was slightly pleased to see, through his building headache, that Edmund's anger was simmering down and he looked a touch regretful for his actions. That was a start.

"It's not fair that you're keeping this from them. They're going to know soon," Caspian pressed, with a wince.

"Susan? Is something wrong? Are you ill?" Lucy held her sister's hand in hers with tenderness in her gaze.

Susan peeked through the curtain of her hair meekly, whilst simultaneously giving Caspian a cold glare. Trumpkin and Glenstorm moved closer to them, out of concern and curiosity. Peter could now see where Reep had decided to settle as he made himself visible on the beams.

"Susan?" Peter demanded worry enlaced in his tone.

" _I'm pregnant_." Her whisper echoed through the room.

" **WHAT?** " Peter and Edmund exclaimed; one out of anger and the latter out of disbelief.

"Why didn't you tell me?" came Lucy's hurt tone.

Peter's head spun; it was as though a dam had broken open and all the secrets that his siblings had been keeping from him came out at once.

"And you were calling _Hermione_ a harlot?"

" _EDMUND_!" Lucy scolded, momentarily letting go of her betrayed emotions.

"Do you have a bombshell to drop on me too, Lucy?" Peter asked faintly.

"What did I strike a nerve?" Edmund asked the stricken Susan, moving away from Peter's shock. "How dare you be so hypocritical when all Hermione's been doing is helping me solve the bloody murder mystery and embezzlement we have going on in this castle that _everyone else_ has conveniently forgotten about."

"What are you speaking about Edmund?" Caspian asked, his tone revealing his irateness.

If there was one person who was more protective of Susan than Peter and Edmund, it would be Caspian.

"It means that while the rest of you have been gallivanting around the castle having a shag, Hermione and I cracked the code! And you have the bloody nerve to stand there accusing me of being up to no good!"

Everyone in the room apart from Lucy blushed at the accusation. In parts, they felt guilt and indignation at Edmund's barbed words.

"You've cracked it?" Lucy asked, being the only one left with enough dignity to speak.

"Yes," Edmund sighed roughly, running a hand through his hair. "It's Peter Kader."

"He's the murderer?" Peter asked as Susan and Lucy gasped at the revelation. Trumpkin muttered something to Glenstorm, but Peter couldn't find the strength to eavesdrop.

"We don't know for sure yet, but we have quite a few clues that are stacking up against him."

"He left the banquet earlier," Lucy said with dawning realisation. She had seen the Captain leave but she had paid much more attention to the abrupt departure of her brother and Hermione.

"That's why we left," Edmund added, falling back onto the couch, "Hermione noticed him receiving a note and he seemed in a bit of a hurry. Only, I didn't expect for her to get up and follow him-"

"-which is why you followed her-" Edmund glowered at Lucy for interrupting his tale, but acquiesced that she had it correct.

"Hermione managed to keep quite close behind him, and he got a bit careless when he dropped the note that he received."

Peter frowned, as did Glenstorm, that didn't sound like the ever careful Captain.

"Do you know what he's planning?" Caspian asked.

Susan, who was still in his arms, looked rather shell-shocked at all that Edmund was revealing.

"He's meeting someone in the Eastern Village this evening, we don't know who he's meeting but we were planning to follow him."

"But what were you doing in the alcove?" Peter asked curiously, as he had been pretty convinced that his brother had been cavorting with Hermione.

Edmund pinked, "Hermione noticed Kader heading back, so she dropped the note on the ground again, as she gathered that he realised it was missing. We hid in the alcove, except he must have seen something because he headed in our direction - so we had to think quick-" Edmund's cheeks burned with embarrassment.

Peter and Lucy smirked widely at their brother. Glenstorm made a noise that sounded an awful lot like laughter whilst Trumpkin didn't bother to hide his guffaws. Edmund sent the dwarf a betrayed look.

"I need to leave," Edmund announced, feeling extremely uncomfortable, "Hermione and I need to leave early to avoid crossing paths with the man."

"You're taking her with you?" Lucy questioned, with a cocked eyebrow, though she no longer looked teasing. "Edmund, she's a civilian."

"You try telling her that!" Edmund retorted with equal exasperation.

"Take a group of soldiers with you," Peter suggested.

"No, that would draw too much attention to us," Edmund argued, "it would be better to travel smaller."

"Then I'm coming with you," Lucy announced.

"And I," Reepicheep squeaked, as he landed on the ground from an impressive jump off the beams.

Edmund, for a moment, looked like he was going to argue before he registered the suggestion completely.

"That's not entirely a bad idea," he agreed.

Lucy and Reepicheep beamed at him.

"Brilliant!" She tugged his arm and started to pull him out of the door.

Edmund turned back to look at Susan, his sister looked despondent, and her mouth was half-open as though she was about to say something, but Peter cut in before she could.

"Well, that was one thing, but - _WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN DOING WITH MY SISTER, CASPIAN_?"

Edmund and Lucy didn't bother sparing a backwards glance and all but ran out of the room with Reep hot on their heels. They heard Trumpkin groan as the door closed behind them, cutting off the dwarf's escape.

* * *

Hermione sat in front of the dresser in Lucy's bedroom, gazing at herself in the mirror, though not seeing. Wallowing in guilt was nothing new for her these days, but this one really hit home.

Ron.

What was she doing? What had she been thinking when she ran her hands all over Edmund? And as her heart thumped louder and faster at the mere thought of it, it still felt like the utmost betrayal on her part. If Ron knew - if he could see her at this moment - she knew, she _knew,_ that he would hate her. It would be like his reaction in the tent when he abandoned her and Harry, but so much worse this time because she _had_ betrayed his trust. She felt foolish, she felt dirty. In some ways, she wanted to justify it, Ron was not here with her anymore - the future, the idea that she had dreamt of her and Ron building a family, being a Weasley, was no longer a reality. But at the same time, she had spent the better part of her teenage years pining for the infuriating, yet brilliantly, on occasion, hilarious boy. It was hard to let all those feelings go - especially when they hadn't been given a chance to explore what could have been.

"Are you alright, girl?" Dagger growled from beside her.

Hermione jumped in her seat, wiping her misty eyes with the back of her hand.

"Yes - sorry -" she stood up from the chair and reached for the clothes she had been wearing earlier, "I should get changed".

She paused awkwardly, looking at the wolf. It was a sentient being, it was one thing to get changed with Hedwig in the room, but a whole other when you knew that the animal could speak its thoughts.

"Through there," Dagger guided with a jerk of his nose.

Hermione followed through to the door that led into the ensuite bathroom, drawing the curtains closed, she settled herself in. With a flick of her wand, the ribbons of the dress and corset unlaced at the back and she slipped out of it with ease. She put back on her boots, trousers, tunic and robes. Now having the time to adjust her clothes, she cast a few alteration spells to tighten her clothing so that the material was less loose on her and certainly more comfortable. The itchiness of the clothes here in Narnia made her feel like she was wearing her grandmother's clothes. Wearing Lucy's dress had been a dream in its silky smoothness. She transfigured the itchy cotton material into a smoother silk and sighed at the way it felt against her skin. She took another look in the mirror and felt more like herself than she had in ages.

 _"_ You're here to protect the Kings and Queens," she whispered to her reflection.

She couldn't afford to lose focus. What happened in the alcove with Edmund had been an accident and it would not happen again, it couldn't happen again. She would just be setting herself up for another heartbreak anyway. She had no chance with a King, she was hardly pretty enough, nor had the title or dowry to go with her name. The positively medieval thought made her want to shudder with discontent, but she had to acknowledge that she was no longer on Earth. It was in a country that was run by five monarchs. A country, that had not yet discovered gun powder and relied heavily on swords and arrows to defend its walls. She knew that she was completely in out of her depth but she would do her best to fit in and keep her head low. It was better this way. She may be forced to live here but she definitely did not belong here. She was a witch and she would never be accepted; especially not by a man who terrible memories of the White Witch. And if his past encounter with Jadis had been anything like hers with Bellatrix, then there really was not much else to say other than that she understood. With a brush against her scarred arm and a decisive nod, she flicked her braided hair behind her back and stepped out.

Dagger looked at her with surprise, and Hermione realised that perhaps she had been too quick, or perhaps the Wolf could sense her use of magic. Could he? Could he see under her robe? Could he tell that she was no longer wearing the rough material she had taken inside, but a transfigured version of it? Could he smell the magic on her? Was that possible? Her heart pounded.

Eager to distract the observant wolf, Hermione spoke to him, "Will you come with me to the kitchens?"

"Hungry?"

"Not really," Hermione answered truthfully, "but it would probably be best to take some provisions with us on the journey. Just in case."

As ever, the planning instinct kicked in.

"You've put some thought into this," Dagger observed.

"No, it's just habit. Be prepared for the worst."

"Certainly a good motto to live by," he replied gruffly, eyeing her with interest.

"It definitely saved a few lives here and there," Hermione agreed, thinking back to the time when Ron had splinted himself and the dittany she had packed.

"I suppose not all of those who you were acquainted with agreed with it?"

"I wouldn't say didn't agree with it, but they for sure were thankful for my foresight during some sticky situations. That isn't to say that I wasn't surrounded by some brilliant people. Harry was a brilliant duellist, taught me a lot of what I know in terms of defence and Ron was a true strategist, came up with some brilliant plans - much to mine and Harry's shock."

"You were close with your comrades?"

"As thick as thieves I guess you could say," Hermione smirked. "A pack of _Marauders_. Rocco!" Hermione greeted the cook as they strolled into the kitchens.

"Miss Granger! What a pleasant surprise!" The Hare replied with genuine affection. "Here for a more palatable meal?"

Hermione huffed a laugh, "No, no. Not today; though I do need some provisions for a journey."

Rocco glanced in Dagger's direction and hesitated. After all, Hermione was neither a Lady nor a servant of Aslan. To be giving her free food from the palace kitchens could place him in deep waters, especially with all the gossip about an embezzlement that's been circulating the rumour mill at the castle.

"She's here on the King's orders. Give her as much as she needs," Dagger growled, though not unkindly.

With a wide grin, Rocco snapped into motion, "Right away!"

* * *

By the time that Peter was through with Caspian and Susan, he found himself with a pounding headache. The role of High King and eldest brother could really be tiring sometimes. And his brotherly duties would never be over until the day he laid down to rest for eternity; on most days that thought was a balm for his hurting soul; knowing that he would always be needed. But today, he found himself cursing his mother for giving him two of the most stubborn, mule-headed siblings. Honestly, at times like this Peter considered Lucy an angel.

"Ed! Just hold on for a minute there!" Peter called out as Edmund talked to the stable boys about preparing two steeds for immediate departure.

Edmund clicked a tense tendon in his neck.

"Quickly Peter, I'm busy," Edmund replied, as he rifled through some weaponry on the table.

"I talked to Susan."

Edmund placed the light sword back down onto the table, his attention fully on his older brother now. He waited patiently, waiting for his brother to reprimand him or the very least to delve into a rant about Caspian's wondering hands. But the question that eventually slipped out of Peter's mouth caught him completely off guard.

"Is she worth it?"

Edmund blinked.

"Who Susan?" he asked, with owlish eyes.

"Is the girl, Hermione, is she worth it? Worth fighting with Susan over?" Peter rephrased.

"What difference would that make?" Edmund muttered, his eyebrows furrowed together.

"Oh everything, Ed, you can't choose who you fall in love with."

Edmund spluttered.

"Love? I think you're getting ahead of yourself there, Pete," he mocked.

"Are you saying that to convince me or yourself?" Peter asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Edmund stared at him dumbfounded for a moment.

"Of course, I'm not in love with her! I barely know her! I'm just being courteous and polite, I can't be blamed for Susan's pettiness."

"You really think that Susan would get so wound up about a simple girl, Ed? Do you not remember what happened-" Peter's voice broke, "-with _Lillian_?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that Susan can see what the rest of us can, Edmund, you're changing ... you _have_ changed."

"Me being polite to someone is really that shocking to you all? I'm not that much of an unapproachable grouch."

"You being polite to a lady is perhaps not all that shocking. But you fighting violently with Susan to the point of bruising her _is_."

"I didn't mean to."

"Yet, you did. I don't think that you were even aware of yourself as you did, were you?"

Edmund stared at Peter, his lips set together in a firm, thin line. He had no answer, as they both knew what his answer would be.

"We're done with this conversation," Edmund announced, as he turned away and picked up a small knife from the table.

"But you haven't answered my question, Ed. Tell me so that I can make Susan back off; it certainly won't do her any good to be so stressed out for the next several months anyhow. Is Hermione worth it?"

Edmund didn't bother turning around, but Peter watched as his younger brother tensed his shoulder and stood just a slight bit taller. He didn't need to hear Edmund's quiet confession that came a second later, he already knew the answer. His young brother was infatuated with the girl and that meant that Peter Pevensie, older brother of Edmund Pevensie had some investigations to do. Boy, did his headache grow in intensity.

Edmund walked away from him and towards the girl of the moment, who had just walked into the stables with Dagger, and a bulging bag. Peter knew he had to have a chat with her when they returned and preferably without Edmund's knowledge as he was sure that Ed would skin him alive if he found out.

Yes, now was not the time. There were more important things to take care of.

"Miss Granger," Peter greeted, as he walked over.

"High King Peter," she replied with a respectable bow of her head.

"I believe I've asked you to call me Peter before and I have you to thank, I find, for the recent discoveries that were made," Peter stated as he took her hand and brought it up to his mouth for a kiss.

Hmm, she didn't blush, but she did spare a glance in Edmund's direction. That was a telling sign.

"Why I'm surprised that you didn't take all the credit for yourself, Edmund," she replied candidly as she gazed at his brother with a smirk.

Peter observed their interactions as Edmund didn't rise to the bait as he perhaps usually would and instead rolled his eyes at her.

"What's in that bag?" He asked instead.

"The lass was considerate of your insatiable stomach, Sire," Dagger answered, grinning wide enough to show off all of his fearsomely sharp teeth.

"What makes you think that this food is for him?" Hermione interjected.

"They aren't?" asked Peter.

"No! Well, yes, but only as an emergency supply," she said.

"The girl also has medical supplies in there."

"Very thoughtful," Peter said, wondering if she knew about Lucy's cordial. Obviously not, if she was going to all this trouble.

"Alright, alright. We need to get going ... and just where is Lucy anyway?" Edmund questioned.

"Right here," Lucy replied from behind them, making them all jump.

And just in time as well, as the stable boy brought out the horses. Lucy was finishing tying up the clasp of her black cloak, similar to the one that Edmund had decided to wear himself. As Lucy offered one to Hermione, the girl refused, insisting that she was warm and comfortable enough in the weird black robe thing that she was wearing. Peter wondered where on earth she had managed to find such a garment. It was most unusual. He had never seen anything like it in Narnia, at least. But he couldn't help but feel a stereotypical déjà vu over the article of clothing, almost as though he had seen it somewhere before, perhaps in a book or something.

"You're riding with me," Edmund told Hermione as Peter helped Lucy onto her steed.

"Good, because I've never ridden one before," Hermione replied, "but I imagine it to be more comfortable and less frightening than riding a hippogriff or a _dragon_ ," she muttered.

"And where in Narnia did you find a hippogriff?" Peter asked disbelievingly, not having heard what she had said after that.

Edmund also frowned. Hippogriffs had not been seen in Narnia since the Golden Ages. Whether the beautiful, regal creatures had gone extinct over the years, or simply fled like many of the Narnians during the Telmarine reign, Peter did not know. But, what he would give to see one of them again. They were highly intelligent beings, for one, but having experienced riding one, Peter couldn't think of anything that could compare - and he was sure Edmund felt the same way.

"A hippogriff? What's that?" Hermione feigned ignorance.

Peter glanced at Edmund whose frown had only deepened. Peter mirrored his expression. He could have sworn that was what she had said, clearly Edmund did too.

"Oh, the most beautiful creature to grace the Narnian sky," Lucy gushed, from atop her horse, "I wish you had met one Hermione, they were truly majestic."

The look on Hermione's face was one of good-naturedness. As though she was humouring them for some reason. But Peter couldn't figure out why. There was no way that Hermione could have seen a hippogriff in Narnia during her short stay there. Yes, Narnia was a rather large country, but the skies were clear and the trees were sentient. Word travelled fast in Narnia, the report of a hippogriff returning to Narnian soil would have been the talk of all Narnians ... and it was completely impossible for Hermione to have even heard of such a creature in London; so why?

Edmund cut off Peter's confused and suspicious thoughts as he straddled his horse and held out a hand to Hermione. Peter watched with a knowing expression as Hermione settled in behind Edmund, her grasp on him light for the moment, but Peter had a suspicious feeling that it would be a lot tighter the minute they started moving. Edmund briefly caught his eye, but upon seeing Peter's look, he immediately averted his eyes. Edmund's sharp tug on the reigns had Peter scrambling out of the way of hooves. Peter fought the urge to roll his eyes, Edmund would come to realise on his own. He had meddled enough for the time being.

"Ready?" Peter asked an extremely nervous looking Lucy.

She clearly was worried about the outcome this little trip could bring.

"Yeah ... sure ... what could possibly go wrong?" she asked rhetorically.

Peter didn't want to tempt fate anymore, so he responded by giving the horse a sharp tap and as she guided her quickly galloping horse.

Aslan bless their journey.

* * *

 **A.N./** Well, this chapter took its own path! I was hoping to write about Harry and Ron this chapter, but Peter's thoughts took the reins on this one and so I decided that Harry and Ron can wait. I realise that the first part is pretty heavy in monologue, but I'm trying to make my characters as 3D as possible. One thing that quite a few of you picked up on what that Peter was a bit of a playboy, and I think one of you called him a 'sleaze' which is entirely different to the Peter from the books and movies. I've always had a backstory for Peter, and I hope that this touched the surface of his inner thoughts and explained his behaviour and character to you all. This is the same with quite a few of my OCs, I just haven't revealed them to you yet, so I hope that you hold on and believe in the characters I am writing about as there is more to them than meets the eye and not everything is as it seems. There may be some snakes among the lions and some werewolves who are entirely misunderstood but that's what I call ... _plot twist(s)_. It's going to be a long and bumpy ride ladies and gents, I hope that you are strapped in.

Once again, I know that this chapter may need a bit of tweaking, but I've tried my best to proofread at this time I've corrected as much as I could. But like with all of my chapters, I'm pretty sure that when you come back to read it all again, there will be some differences - only to improve the story of course. I actually had most of this chapter written at the same time as Chapter 12, but I wasn't at all happy. Harry and Ron's adventure was completely taken out to make room for Peter and Hermione. I could have left it in and given you all an extremely long chapter, but their comedy didn't fit in with the mood of this particular chapter so I made an executive decision to move that scene onto Chapter 14.

Oh, and if you are interested in reading an EdmundxOC fanfic, I came across one yesterday and it was a brilliant read! It's called **In the Name of the Crown** and you can find a link to it on my profile under Favourite Stories!

Thanks again to the amazing people who keep on giving with the reviews, once again: **Royal Lemur** , **runrigrocks** , **lottiemoreland13** , **dreamcatcherinthemoonlight** , **IsobelFrances** , **AliceinWonderland13** , **OOANDISAOO** , **craaazyaboutMalfoy** , **Victoria** , **twztdwildcat** and **LackingDelirium**. And erm, 100+ follows and favourites? Like, what? Thank you so, so much to all of you for giving this story a shot! See you next time x


	14. Chapter 14

**Moments in Time**

 **Disclaimer:** Copyright J.K. Rowling & C.S. Lewis

* * *

 **XIV:** Witches

or

"Double, double toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble."

* * *

The temperature around them had decreased quickly and the lingering light was obliterated by the rapidly falling night. The once salmon and purple sky transformed into a vast expanse of jet-black that engulfed the unseeable expanse of the woods. The usual canopy of luminous stars that shone amongst the ocean of blackness was hidden behind a brewing of dark stormy clouds on this moonless night. The night had brought with it, it seemed, a threat of a summer storm.

As they rode over a bridge, the lake below remained still and dark, mirroring the assemblage of the night sky that reminded Hermione of the Black Lake at Hogwarts. Only, her most recent memory of the Black Lake was witnessing a flight of Dementors hovering over it and the blazes of orange and red, reflecting the burning castle that once was a haven for many students.

Hermione's grip on Edmund tightened as new war memories came to the surface; Edmund hardly noticed, however. The Just King was too engrossed in his thoughts about the turmoil that was his country - at least, that was what he would tell Hermione if she asked him what was on his mind at that current moment. Loathe he admit the truth that Peter's last words to him before they had set off, repeated in his mind like a pendulum.

The ride seemed never-ending and the deeper they travelled into the woods, the surer that Hermione felt a gut-sinking feeling that things were going to go bad. The woods always looked different at night. Everything had an eerily unfamiliar slant to it, it was as if the beautiful daytime flowers and stones had gone to bed and sent a slightly more ominous version of themselves to take their places. As they finally descended off the earth and onto a clear paved path, trepidation and dread settled in.

Though Edmund had initially portrayed this town as derelict, description alone could not have prepared Hermione for the town that was built on the outskirts of the Eastern Village. The town, though tiny, was completely dilapidated and showing signs of decay. There could not be more than a dozen houses and, reading the sign, evidence of a previous, well-used, apothecary. Windows were boarded up and some of the doors to the houses were wide open, as though they had been ransacked by scavengers. There was no sign of life anywhere. Instinct told Hermione to use ' _Homenum Revelio_ ' to see if there was human presence near them, she couldn't shake off the feeling that they were walking into a trap.

"Aslan," Lucy breathed as she hopped off her horse, unable to believe the sight. "What happened to all the people?" she asked Edmund.

Reepicheep jumped out of the satchel that had been tied to Lucy's horse as he ventured ahead of them, trying to sniff out any evil hidden in the darkness with Dagger not too far behind him.

"That's what I would like to know," Edmund replied gravely.

"It can't have been more than a month since the last patrol through this part of Narnia," Lucy added, disbelievingly.

"Precisely, so it would have been reported. Whatever happened here must have been recent. Very recent. But look at the mould! It can't have been just a month."

Hermione was silent as she absorbed this information; a lot of things seemed to be correlating to the time when she arrived in Narnia. The mysterious death within the castle, the three-headed beast and now an entire town missing? - the list just seemed to be growing. Once was happenstance, twice was coincidence but thrice? ... that could only mean something bad - and going by her past experiences, it was something _really_ bad that was brewing in Narnia.

"Are you sure that you have the correct place?" she couldn't help but ask, hopelessly.

"Yes," Edmund answered, as he pointed to one of the buildings, "it's that building there."

Sure enough, Hermione could just about read the fading lettering on the post in front of the building.

"Then perhaps we should mull over this situation later, but I think we should get into places, don't you? There are no stars nor moon in the sky to be able to predict the time, but I think we are getting dangerously close to the hour that they are supposed to meet. What are we going to do with the horses?" She fell into the role that she was comfortable in, creating plans, bossing people around, being the one in charge.

Momentarily stunned, Edmund and Lucy cast questioning gazes in her direction over her authoritativeness before they silently accepted that she was right. They couldn't stand around in the middle of the village and lose their only advantage.

"We should tie them up over there," Edmund pointed to the dark woods at the opposite end to the one that they arrived; as he shot Hermione another considering look. "You have to cross the bridge to get here, and the only known path that patrols use is the one that is paved."

Trusting Edmund's knowledge, Lucy followed her brother with her horse. Meanwhile, Hermione hung back and decided to investigate the supposed meeting room. Casting a look over her shoulder to eye where Edmund and Lucy were, she drew out her wand and stepped into the threshold. Adrenaline pumped through her veins.

" _Lumos_."

She concentrated her energy to form a dim light that filtered through the tip of her wand, as not to attract the attention of the royals with something brighter, she walked through the inn. Her nose instantly recoiled at the pungent smell of stale alcohol. Upon closer inspection, she realised that the smell was emitting from the knocked over tankards and half filled glasses around the room. Immediately, her internal alarms were ringing loudly in her ears as adrenaline filled her body. Something was wrong. Having worked at an inn-house, she knew that mead was well loved by those who frequented at such an institution. It was almost as if the people in the town had literally vanished, leaving behind unfinished business.

"Hello, Hermione Granger, I've been expecting you," whispered a croaky voice from behind her.

Hermione's heart dropped to her stomach as she whirled around and screamed.

* * *

"ARGH!" Ron screamed as a pale fist punched through the circular window they had been peering out of and grasped at the space where his head had been.

" _Diffindo_!"

The severed, blood-red painted, pointy fingernails unfurled from their fisted clench and pointed in his direction. Ron felt the bile rise in his throat as he realised that it _was_ blood pooling around him. He dry-heaved as Harry shot a stupefy at the body that now was missing a hand. It was mayhem. And Ron was on the verge of hyperventilating.

" _Confringo_ ," Ron blasted, using his left arm as his wand arm was currently twisted into a mutated position. "Harry! Where did they come from?"

Ron ducked as the bookshelf behind his head exploded, as another fist punched through the wall, sending smatterings of wood chips and paper raining through the room.

"I wish I bloody knew!" Harry panted, as he leaned against the upturned dining table that was currently being purposed as a shield.

Another fist punched through the wall and made contact with Ron's head, sending him flying backwards into the destroyed living room. Harry sent another stunner at their assailant before skidding across the room on his knees to Ron.

"Ron! RON! Are you alright? Come on, get up! They've got this place surrounded. _Stupefy_!" Harry ducked under the sofa, tugging Ron up to a sitting position. "We have to apparate Ron!"

Ron groaned as his head rung like a cymbal.

"Apparate where? And what about Babbity? We can't leave her home like this, what if she comes back from the castle?"

"I think," Harry gasped as another hand shot through the thin walls as though it was made of paper, "on this one instance-"

Ron shot a ' _Protego_ ' charm towards the failing door.

"-that we should ditch ... _Confringo_ ... our ... _Stupefy Stupefy_... hero complex behind and leave ... _Expulso_ ... before we become liquid dinner or worse!"

" _Incarcerous_!" Ron cast one last spell as Harry grabbed his arm and apparated.

* * *

" _Stupefy_!"

The spell escaped through her lips reflexively, sending the old woman flying backwards. Not seconds later, Edmund, Lucy, Dagger and Reepicheep rushed into the room, swords drawn and teeth bared, ready for attack. She winced as Edmund shone his flashlight in her direction before he followed her gaze to the ground.

"I thought I told you to stay put!" He barked darkly.

"No, you didn't," she replied immediately, surprisingly Lucy simultaneously voiced the same thought. Hermione shot an insolent look towards Edmund that read, ' _see?_ '.

"What did you do? Poke her to a faint?" Edmund asked, choosing to ignore their team-up against him, as he finally realised the 'weapon' that Hermione held so fiercely in her hand. Hermione had been caught so off guard that she completely forgot to stow her wand away.

"N-no," she stuttered, "I was taken aback so I punched her? - A-And she kind of fell back and hit her head." Hermione squinted and refrained from rolling her eyes as she replayed her weak lie in her head.

"Quite violent, aren't you?" Edmund teased, though still with a bit of grit in his tone.

"That's hardly the issue at hand right now," she replied tersely, folding her arms petulantly.

"Who is she?" Lucy asked, though it was quite a pointless question.

Edmund told her as such, whilst keeping a look of incredulity firmly planted on his face. The three humans looked at each other, unsure of what their next manoeuvre should be.

"Well, I suppose we should wake her up to find out," Edmund said with a long-suffering sigh as he perched down to the floor.

Hermione opened her mouth to tell him that his efforts would be pointless as only the ' _Ennervate_ ' incantation would revive a being who was stupefied, but then quickly realised that she couldn't actually tell him that. So, she waited and watched as he patted the cheeks of the woman and, as expected, received no reaction. With a worried glance towards the women who accompanied him, Edmund reached around to her neck and put his fingers there to feel a pulse and let out a sigh of relief.

"By the lion's mane, you've knocked her out cold!" said Edmund.

Hermione bit back her somewhat sarcastic reply about the way magic worked, knowing that the meaning would be lost on her company and settled for a withering glare instead.

"At least she's not dead," Lucy inputted.

"I like her spunk," Reepicheep squeaked with a smile to his King.

"Perhaps a sprinkle of water?" Hermione suggested weakly to her companions.

Lucy immediately sprung into action and walked around the bar stand to the grimy looking tap. She filled a somewhat dirty glass with water. As she crouched beside her brother and lightly sprinkled the water, Hermione quickly (and as silently as she could) cast the reviving spell, keeping her wand movements (hidden under the sleeve of her robe) as minimal as possible. Perhaps it was her age or her complete disorientation, but the woman took some time to come around. Satisfied, Hermione readjusted her wand so that it was, once again, stowed in her makeshift wand holder but she completely missed the sharp, distrusting look that Dagger sent in her direction.

"Hello there," Lucy cooed gently, as though she was speaking to a child.

The old woman observed her company and then whispered, almost reverently, "Your Majesties."

"You know who we are," Edmund said, as he stood back up and stepped back.

Edmund knew that while their titles and names were whispered earnestly through the country. There were still a lot of people who had never met the monarchs as they mostly lived within the walls of their castle; multiple assassination attempts from the rebels had put a damper on their public relations. Life was a lot different to the Golden Age where Peter, Susan, Lucy and Edmund had been able to venture out as much as they pleased.

"You knew who I was," Hermione quickly whispered from Edmund's side.

Edmund quickly snapped to attention and within a blink of an eye, his had his sword drawn again. Knowing the monarchs of a country was one thing, but knowing Hermione? Someone who could be considered just another face in Narnia if Edmund didn't know all that he did about her. Especially since she was now heavily involved in the matters of the Court. Before he had the chance to threaten her, to ask her what she knew, the old woman sprung back up to her feet looking as spry as a child. The Narnians and Hermione gasped in shock as the woman threw up a shield, an invisible, magical forcefield that formed an impenetrable bubble around her, sending the rest of them flying backwards, until they were a more than a good metre away.

"How?" Hermione asked, pulling herself together the fastest, and the least surprised of the lot at the show of magic.

"It's magic," Edmund explained to Hermione, but Hermione paid him little attention.

"I see things," the woman replied, understanding Hermione's real question, as she eyed knowingly at the exact area where Hermione had put her wand. Hermione shifted uncomfortably, was her secret about to be revealed? "I know of things that are to come. There is a terrible evil brewing. I see death. So much death."

"Death?" Hermione whispered, then quickly uttered, "Like S-Sally?"

Edmund grasped Hermione's elbow.

"What about Edward's sister?" he asked, confused by the sudden name-drop.

"Sh-she said the same thing," she replied with fear. Surely not another war, she couldn't go through that again.

"She is another who shares the same gift as I," said the old woman.

"And what gift is that?" Lucy asked carefully as she stepped closer. It was almost as if she wanted to get closer to the woman, to try and penetrate through her shield, but fear wisely held her back.

"The gift of sight."

"You're a seer," Hermione answered.

The old woman nodded.

"What? Like, see the future type?" Edmund asked bewilderedly.

"Not necessarily see the future but see the possible outcomes," Hermione informed and the old woman smiled approvingly. Edmund frowned at her extensive knowledge about magic.

"You were brought here for a reason, Hermione Granger," the woman continued, ignoring their squabbling.

"Yes, Aslan said so - but I still don't understa-"

"There are a lot of things that are set in stone Hermione Granger. Certain points in time where things have to happen a certain way, or else everything falls apart."

This was the reason why Hermione never liked Divinations. Everything was always so cryptic.

"Are you saying that I should not have died?" Hermione asked, taking a stab in the dark.

Edmund and Lucy silently followed the conversation. Perhaps they could finally learn a bit of truth about Hermione's past.

"We all die one day Hermione Granger, but what was the catalyst to your death?"

Hermione paused, her eyes clenched tight as she remembered.

" _Harry_ ," Hermione whispered.

The name carried through the silent night like a prayer. Lucy shivered involuntarily.

"Yes, Harry Potter's death was a set event."

"So you're saying that he was supposed to die at Voldemort's hand?"

"No, child, I'm saying that Harry Potter died too young."

"But he was hit by the killing curse, no one can survive that, not twice!"

"Harry Potter always had a talent for getting himself into trouble but he always had an air of destiny about him, don't you think? Unnatural, wasn't it, the way luck was always on his side, on _your_ side? Did you really think that your friendship was happenstance? That the ah- what did you call it?" the woman's gaze fell on Edmund for a brief second, " _monster_ in the bathroom was a silly mistake?" Hermione flinched. "You were always going to be a part of Harry Potter's life, whether you wanted to be or not. Your destiny will always be tied to his."

"But I'm not his soulmate," Hermione argued, she knew that she had never felt anything more for Harry other than friendship.

"I think you will find dear child, that there are far stronger forces in the universe that brings souls together."

Hermione nearly groaned at yet another cryptic message.

"What about Harry? If we are bound together then why is he not here? The horcrux inside of him could only be destroyed by irreparable damage. Harry had to die for Voldemort's defeat."

"The Horcrux was never a part of his soul, while its attempts to merge with Harry Potter's was not non-existent; he managed to keep it separate. And did you too, not die, child?"

"So when he was killed only the Horcrux passed on? But Harry didn't come back, I saw him! I saw Hagrid carrying him!"

"No, Harry Potter did not come back. That was the turning point in many lives. A new future is being written, Hermione Granger. The forces of darkness should never trump the light. Harry Potter's death overthrew the balance and the balance has been unsettled. He made a choice, a terrible choice that has put these events in motion. There are dreadful times ahead and the pain, the suffering, the secrets ... oh you must-" the old woman paused as her attention was quickly drawn away to an unseeing place.

"I have said too much, I mustn't say more, it will upset the new. No, this must be our farewell, Hermione Granger, your Majesties, I must apologise, but this must be, I must be," said the witch unclearly.

"Wait! What were you about to say? Why were you here to meet Peter? What has he got to do with any of this?" Hermione shouted as the woman started to fade.

Then as though she had silently apparated, they were alone in the room once more. Deafening silence filled the room as everyone absorbed her words. Confusion, fear and devastation pulsed through the air.

Then suddenly, Lucy gasped from by her side. Edmund turned extremely pale as the witch reappeared behind Lucy and grabbed her by the arm. Lucy's earsplitting scream of fear echoed through the night as she started to fade with her. There was a flurry of actions as Dagger jumped through the air and sunk his teeth into the witch's arm, Reepicheep charged with his sword drawn, Edmund roared his sister's name before the witch blasted him away and all Hermione could do was stand in shock and scream " ** _NO!_** ".

And then the witch, Lucy and Dagger vanished into thin air.

* * *

"Urgh," the two young men grunted as they landed on the hard ground with a thud.

"Merlin's bollocks, I think I've sprained my wrist," Ron groaned.

"Mate," Harry muttered, as he eyed Ron's wrist that was flopping at a very awkward angle, "that is not a sprain."

"Episkey, should do it, shouldn't it?" Ron asked with a whimper of pain, looking as though he was about to faint at the sight of his floppy wrist.

"Hermione was always better at the healing spells," Harry winced as he pulled out his wand.

"Well, try not to mess it up, yeah? It's my wand arm," Ron grunted as he closed his eyes and waited for the pain to come.

"Right," Harry muttered, "err, hold onto something, this is going to ... sting. _Episkey!_ "

Ron bit down on his lip so hard that it started to bleed as his wrist snapped back into place. Simultaneously, a scream echoed through the woods.

"Mother of Merlin, _sting_? More like taking a bludger to the balls!" Ron complained as he flexed his sore hand to get the blood flowing back around again.

"Never mind your wrist! Did you hear that?" Harry asked as he scanned the area around them.

"Oh, that wasn't me?" Ron joked weakly.

Harry shot Ron an amused glance. Another scream echoed through the woods, again and Ron almost groaned as he recognised the expression on Harry's face.

"C'mon! Let's go!" Harry shouted as he started to run in the direction of the scream.

"I thought we were leaving the hero complex behind?" Ron shouted with agitation, as he followed Harry at a much slower pace. "Harry! Come on, slow down. I'm getting too old for this."

"Too old? What are you thirty?" Harry teased.

"Might as well be, I certainly have the live experiences of one," Ron retorted.

"I've been thinking about that actually. That time, Hermione and I used the time turner? Do you think it added to our age?"

"If that's the case then 'Mione is much older than just a few months from us 'cuz she was using that damn thing all year! I still can't believe that we didn't catch on. And that she didn't tell us! Imagine all the pranks we could have pulled on Malfoy!"

"She would have taken our heads off about using it responsibly and 'not for stupid, frivolous things like pranking Malfoy'," Harry replied, mimicking Hermione's high-strung voice when she was particularly vexed with the both of them.

The boys snorted, imagining their female friend's expression. It was the first time that they had spoken about her without the guilt and tingling pain of not having her around.

"I miss her," Ron said, for perhaps the hundredth time since they had arrived.

"Yeah," Harry agreed morosely.

"Hey, Harry, I can't hear anything anymore. It's quiet," Ron said, slowing down to a halt.

"Too quiet," Harry agreed and pulled out his wand. The two of them surveyed their surroundings. The trouble with forests was that everything looked the same, trees, trees and more trees.

"Hello, boys," A sinister voice greeted them.

Harry and Ron yelped as the vampires from the Burrow reappeared in front of them, their wands were wrenched out of their hands as the vampires flew down from the camouflage of the night sky and landed swiftly on the ground.

"Where the hell did you come from?" Ron yelped.

A vampire, who appeared to be the leader of the pack, cocked his head to the side as though assessing Ron's intelligence. The vampire had black eyes tinged with a blood red circle on the outer edges, and looked practically human apart from the menacing fangs that looked sharp enough to tear through skin with just a bite.

"What are you going to do then? Kill us? Tear out our hearts?" Harry yelled at them as he struggled against the vampire that had his arms in a lock.

"Yeah?" Ron continued, without waiting for an answer, "well guess what? He died two times and he's still alive!" He screamed with a cock of his head in Harry's direction.

"And _that_ is the only reason why you are surviving after what you did tonight. If it were down to me, I would rip your shrimpy little heads off your necks for killing three of my men but someone wants you alive," the vampire replied chillingly.

Harry and Ron struggled against their captors but it was to no avail.

"Bind them."

* * *

"Your Majesty!" Reepicheep exclaimed as he scampered towards Edmund who had been thrown against the wall. Edmund was holding the back of his head in severe pain.

"Lucy," he croaked.

"She's been taken, Sire," Reepicheep whimpered, not out of fear of the King but of what the King was going to do to get his sister back.

"Edmund," Hermione whispered as she knelt beside him. "I'm so sorry, I should have stopped her, but I was in shock, I wasn't expecting her to return, oh if only I had stun-"

Edmund grabbed Hermione's hand between his in a strong grip.

"Stop, you're in shock, you couldn't have done anything," he told her sternly.

"But I could have! I could have-" Hermione said desperately.

"And what exactly is it that you could have done?" Edmund questioned, not unkindly.

"I-" Hermione stumbled.

Should she tell him? Would it help if he knew that she could help in ways that he did not know? She may have belonged to the house of the brave but Hermione could not find the strength in her to tell him her secret.

"Exactly," Edmund concluded as he took her silence as her defeat.

"What are we going to do?" Hermione asked him, feeling the most helpless she'd ever felt.

Before Edmund could say that he had no idea; no idea where to begin, where to look, who to ask - the sound of hooves on cobbled stones echoed from outside. Edmund was immediately on his feet with both his swords drawn. He had the same fierce look on his face that Hermione had blearily witnessed when he had struck the three-headed beast in the chest and it was absolutely terrifying.

" _Edmund_ ," she tried to plea as he stalked outside but he had much longer limbs than her and she struggled to keep up with his pace with her twisted ankle.

"Your Majesty!" Peter gasped in surprise as Edmund appeared from the building.

"WHERE IS SHE?" Edmund roared. "WHERE IS MY SISTER?"

Peter barely had time to respond as he scrambled to draw his own sword in time to block Edmund's attack to his head. Peter winced as Edmund's other sword drew blood from his arm.

"EDMUND! STOP!" Hermione started to scream as Reepicheep scampered up Peter's leg to attack the man.

"WAS THIS YOUR PLAN? TO HOLD THE VALIANT QUEEN AS RANSOM? TO CONSORT WITH WITCHES?"

The clashing of swords echoed through the night. Again and again and again. Edmund was ruthless in his attack and Peter was just about keeping up with his defence and the only reason he could, was because he had regularly trained with Edmund during his earlier years.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Peter asked as he tried to shake Reepicheep off his shoulder and that second of distraction was all Edmund needed to kick Peter's legs and have him on the ground underneath him. Edmund raised his swords to make the last, fatal blow.

"EDMUND! **NO**! HE'S THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS HOW TO CONTACT THE WITCH! HE'S OUR ONLY CHANCE OF GETTING LUCY BACK!" Hermione screamed just in time as Edmund halted his attack, his swords millimetres away from Peter's neck and chest.

Chest heaving, Edmund flipped his sword, not even wincing as the blade cut into his palm as he used the hilt to smash it against Peter's head, knocking him out cold. Turning around, Edmund looked at Hermione, grimacing as he saw the genuine fear and shock shining through her teary eyes, her face was white with shock. He didn't run after her when she turned on her heels and headed back inside the inn, but for the first time in the history of being a soldier dedicated to Narnia, he felt a slight bit of shame in his actions. He had let his anger overrule his logic and he regretted that she had witnessed the best inside of him.

"Get Lu's horse," Edmund ordered quietly to Reepicheep; after noting that Peter's own horse had scampered off in the middle of the fight, "we'll tie him up and take him back to the Cair for questioning."

* * *

Once Edmund had ensured that Peter was sufficiently bound, he left Reepicheep on guard so that he could fetch Hermione to leave. It was with great trepidation that he returned to the inn. Because, for once, he wasn't sure how she would see him. He had seen the fear in her eyes, he had scared her and for some reason that formed a rather large, unsettled pit in his stomach.

He didn't need to search hard for Hermione as he immediately spotted her sitting on the steps of the front porch. Her braided hair had come undone and stray pieces swayed along with the night breeze. The dried tracks of her tears on her cheeks remained as a reminder of the emotional night. He sighed deeply. Swallowing his pride, he repositioned his sword on his hip and sat down next to her. She was either ignoring his presence or observing the beauty of Narnia in the dead of the night but given their current location, Edmund doubted it was the latter.

He took in her features, highlighted by the soft moonlight as she sat in silence. That pit in his stomach bubbled again with anxiety, he wasn't sure what it was about her that made him feel so unsure of himself.

"I'm-" Edmund started, but she cut him off.

"Don't apologise if you don't mean it," she whispered softly. Her voice sounded dry and cracked, clearly she was more upset than she let on.

He blinked at her but her blazing gaze remained focused on a rotting piece of wood a few yards away from them.

"And how do you know that I'm not being sincere?" he asked, just as quietly; he feared scaring her again.

She didn't reply, but Edmund quickly caught the twitch of her thumb, as she brushed against the carved scar on her forearm. Edmund, with halting realisation, understood her unspoken words. He mentally winced as he reminded himself that he was not the only one who had been tortured, whom by was another discussion, but the fact still remained that they were both scarred individuals, physically and emotionally. What she had witnessed tonight had probably brought back memories of the war she had not survived. That feeling of helplessness and despair as everything around you fell apart was one that Edmund was very familiar with.

"I _am_ sorry," he whispered with complete sincerity.

And apparently, she had not been expecting that from him, as she started and snapped her head to stare at him with an indescribable emotion plastered on her face. Taking in his show of goodwill, her lips quirked upwards in a silent acceptance before she turned back to stare ahead.

"He's not the man who we thought he was, is he?" she asked.

"No," was his curt response.

"And all of this, it's just started something bigger, hasn't it? This isn't just a random kidnapping, it should be, because how could they have known that Lucy would accompany us? Unless maybe they expected to capture you?"

"-" Edmund hesitated, as he had no answer for her questions.

"But then why does it feel like we are all pawn pieces in a bigger game that has not been revealed?"

"I wish I had an answer-"

"Who are we even fighting against?"

"That seems to be the biggest question," Edmund agreed.

"Because at the moment, all we have to target is a group with no faces bar one. Do we even know where to find them? They've managed to live under your noses all this while, the ones who wield magic, I mean. I thought that they were extinct in Narnia, at least that what the books said."

"That-"

"A group who can conjure a three-headed beast, a group who can creep into the castle walls and kill one of your men without your knowledge, of course, it all makes sense now, if they had magic there are small limits to what they can do, but how did you miss it? How did I miss it?" Her voice cracked at the last one, as though she had suddenly remembered something.

"You seem to be taking this entirely personally," he stated as he stared curiously at her.

"Of course, I am! I-" she halted. She what? She couldn't explain it to him. "I just wish that I could have done something to prevent this."

Edmund's face softened at her quiet admission.

"There's nothing you could have done," he reassured, placing a gentle hand on her arm.

"I'm older, though, if I had been taken ... I have more experience ... I can defended myself ... Queen Lucy is just so innocent-"

Edmund barked a laugh, Hermione looked at him with surprise.

"If you've been fooled by her sweet smiles and angelic aura, let me be the one to tell you that she is not as helpless as you think. She may be young-er, but don't forget that this is our fourth time, growing old. We're much older than we appear."

"So the stories are not exaggerated then?"

"No, and there's a reason why Aslan named her the Valiant; she maybe small, but she is fierce."

"Shakespeare," Hermione whispered with a smile.

"Yes," Edmund replied with a matching tilt of his lips.

"You scared me earlier," she admitted, turning her head away, the smile turning into a frown.

"I know, again, I apologise for not acting like the gentleman I was raised to be," he replied, sounding as though he was reciting something that had been repeated to him many times.

Hermione snorted, "you really are a King aren't you?"

"You had doubts?" He asked with a small smirk.

"Well not in appearances," Hermione flushed immediately as the words slipped out, as she realised how it may sound, "but, there are times where you act more like a soldier than a King."

"What do you mean by appearances?" Edmund asked, nudging her with his thigh, as he confidently stared directly into her eyes.

Hermione stared at him gobsmacked, unable to form a response. Was he flirting with her?

"Well, I mean, - your _clothes_ , of course!" She fumbled, her cheeks burning bright.

"My clothes?" Edmund drawled, with a cocked eyebrow.

"Yes, I mean, the crown, the fabrics, the cape-"

"I am familiar with what I wear on a day to day basis," Edmund cut her off, as he took a moment of delight in relishing her flush of embarrassment. "Is that really all that you meant?" He pressed with a charming smirk.

He could tell that she was getting flustered, this was perhaps the most unsure he had ever seen her. He felt a boyish pride in the knowledge that he affected her as much as she affected him. He opened his mouth to tease her further but paused as he noticed a sudden change in her body language, she stiffened as though she had remembered something.

"Yes, that is all I meant," she replied in a surprisingly clipped voice, "and I think we should be going, actually."

She stood abruptly and headed off in the direction of the horses leaving Edmund behind; who, completely caught off guard by her standoffishness, wondered if he had completely misjudged their previous interactions to be something more than it was.

.

.

.

* * *

 **A.N./** I'm sorry.

 _ **EDIT:**_ This chapter has been revised.

I know that the update is so late, and I hope that you can forgive me. A shorter chapter this time, but it felt like the right place to sign off. Most of this chapter was written four months ago and has been sitting in my Doc Manager because I was so displeased with it. A lot of scenes have been cut from this chapter as I wasn't happy with the way that it was ordered. But, they are by no means outtakes. They have merely been moved to the next chapter as it's too juicy to delete.

I have also been warring in my head about when/how/where I wanted Harry, Ron, and Hermione to reunite and during my two-month break, I spent time sorting out the trio, and what will happen to them. Obviously, I'm not going to tell you how soon it will be before they meet; where's the suspense in that? ;) But I am now happy with the pacing of the story and somewhat happy with this chapter. It's not my favourite, but it had to be written to move the story forwards.

Thank you again to all the wonderful people who favourited, followed and reviewed. You guys continue to amaze me with your support.

 **Guest, Guest #2, Freedom Star, Anonymous, irishmcgiggles, imrjcool, Lithia Sunset, Mia is okay now, HestiaForever, theablue, Victoria, Anonymous #2, Guest #3, MoonWatersLight, AliceinWonderland13, OOANDISAOO, Suzululu4moe, craaazyaboutMalfoy, Guest #4, LackingDelirium, Parsi, twztdwildcat** **,** and **Lfagundes** thank you for taking the time to leave a review even when I haven't been consistent with my updates. I hope that this chapter fed your OTP needs for the time being.


	15. Chapter 15

**Moments in Time**

 **Disclaimer:** Copyright J.K. Rowling & C.S. Lewis

* * *

 **XV:** Taken

or

"Courage is being scared, but saddling up anyway."

* * *

Dawn was rising as three figures traveled through the deserted plains of Narnia and into Estimoor. Queen Lucy tugged at the conjured manacles on her wrist and shuddered as a spike of pain traveled up her arms, a warning, for her to not try too hard to escape. Right next to her was her brother's loyal guard, Dagger, he too had been bound by the same type of spell, only his acted as a muzzle. The wolf was subjected to the same promise of pain as her, should he try to do anything to aid his Queen in any attempt of escape. Thus, Lucy and Dagger had quickly come to a silent agreement that they were of better use to each other alive, than to try anything in front of this witch.

Lucy's feet ached as they continued without rest. She couldn't remember the last time that she had trekked for this long without the aid of a horse or carriage. The steepness of the plains did not help her cause. Her eyes felt heavy with tiredness and her stomach made loud growling noises, that sounded like a beast in the quietness of their surroundings. The witch had offered her an apple, to eat, but Lucy had politely declined; for all she knew it could have been poisoned - as goes the story of Snow White.

The witch had maintained her steely demeanor but every once in a while, Lucy caught a glimpse of doubt shadowing her face.

"You don't have to do this you know?" Lucy said quietly, in an almost pleading voice.

The old witch touched a feather that was pinned to the breast of her cloak and cast an almost sad glance at Lucy.

"I'm afraid that there is no other way," she said, her voice too gentle and whimsical to sound at all threatening.

Lucy stared at their woman apprehensively.

"If you're in some sort of trouble, if someone's making you do this, I'm sure that my brothers can help you," she suggested, "there's nothing that they cannot handle, and you would have my full support, and Caspian will no doubt offer his help too! If only you will allow me to go back to Cair Paravel, I can - I'm sure I can!" Lucy said with a burst of enthusiasm and growing hope.

There was hesitation in the old woman's stance. Her eyes grew distant, as though she was momentarily considering the proposal, and then just as suddenly, she was very present.

"There is no other way," she repeated more firmly; this time there was a fire of foreboding shining in her eyes.

Lucy's shoulders dropped as her shortly stemmed piece of hope depleted. They continued their journey once more, this time at a renewed rigorous pace, making Lucy regret the fact that she had opened her mouth in the first place. Her muscles burned with exhaustion and her lungs felt like they were on fire. Her hands shook with staggering pain every time she fell back a bit to catch her breath as the manacles punished her for being slow.

"Where are you taking us?" Lucy gasped after a while, hoping that another sprig of conversation will allow them another rest.

The witch did not reply, but she didn't need to. Dagger struggled with alarm in his bonds, despite the pain, and Lucy felt faint as the icy blue castle shimmered into view as though it had been hidden before. Lucy's heart missed a few beats and dread crept up on her in tenfold. It couldn't be. Surely no one would be so foolish to bring her back to life.

The white ice gleamed threateningly. The sharp icicle-like towers pierced the dark sky like blades.

"No," a breathless whisper fell out of Lucy's mouth.

They were at the White Witch's Castle.

* * *

Not too far away from where Lucy was, two captured wizards unknowingly shared the Narnian Queen's dread as they were brought up to the hostile looking castle. It certainly had to homebody sense of awe and magic that Hogwarts inspired, that was for sure.

"Walk," the Vampire Count ordered.

"It looks a bit cold in there, couldn't we just have our conversation outside?" Ron asked despairingly. He was met with a rough shove on his shoulder.

"Thought not," the redhead sighed.

Harry held in his cynical thoughts as they were led through the castle that unsurprisingly did feel as cold as it looked. As they walked through the not-so-slippery ice floor into what looked like a great hall, or perhaps it was called a throne room, judging by the threatening looking throne that stood proudly at the other end. It could almost be called an ice sculpture, by the way, that it was so daintily carved but the hundreds of icicles that spiked out of the back of the throne, it looked anything but welcoming.

"What are we meeting some sort of Ice Queen?" Harry muttered snidely under his breath.

The vampires looked confusingly amused by his question.

"I bet Greengrass would have loved that throne," Ron remarked beside him.

Had Hermione been with them, she would have berated them for their lack of sensibility. But both young men knew that they were both outnumbered and outclassed, they were in a foreign land with a clear threat against them. Their only best bet was the play out the scene and gather more information about their captor. Their short inside joke was interrupted when a male strode into the room with an air of pompous arrogance surrounding him. His walk was catlike, a gait that seemed constantly on the edge of shifting into a crouch.

"Ah, I see that our esteemed guests have arrived," he remarked unremarkably.

Ron and Harry squinted through the dim lit room to try and get a better view of the man who had ordered their capture.

"Why are they tied up? Release them immediately!" he said as he sat down on the throne, not allowing the vampires a moment to give a reason for their discretion.

Ron smirked smugly as the sour vampire untied him. However, a strange chill of foreboding settled in their bones as they laid eyes on the man who sat so casually on the throne. He had an aura that was eerily reminiscent of Voldemort, his eyes were as cold and unforgiving as a snake's. Though he exuded an intimidating air of vanity, the man was rather small, not much taller than Harry and certainly a fair few inches shorter than Ron. But both boys were no fools, the instant the man laid his calculating eyes and smiling face on them, they knew that they were in trouble.

Harry's stomach clenched and twisted violently with anxiety as he eyed the Ice King with dread. The Count had told them that someone wanted them alive. What did this King want with them? And more importantly was he the Narnian King? Harry had been under the impression that there were five of them, the monarchs of the country, that is. So where were the other four thrones? This man looked rather old, his face was weathered and wrinkled; from what he had heard, the monarchs were rather young.

Harry could practically hear Moody screaming ' ** _CONSTANT VIGILANCE_** ' in his ear. No, this could not be a Narnian monarch. There were too many contradicting facts.

"Harry, Harry, Harry Potter," the man said with a tinkle in his voice, "I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"And what am I? Chopped liver?" Ron muttered under his breath, sending an exasperated Harry a small smirk.

"I wish I could say the same, but I don't think I quite know who you are," Harry replied with a hint of mutiny in his tone.

"Ah, yes, yes ... allow me to introduce myself," he said, as he stood up from his throne.

"Please don't," Ron added quietly with a roll of his eyes.

"I am Lord Sopespian," he introduced, with an exaggerated wide display of his arms outstretched.

The irony of the parallels in both this world and the world they originated from did not escape Ron's or Harry's notice. Harry briefly wondered if Lord Sopespian was an anagram such that 'I am Lord Voldemort' had turned out to be 'Tom Marvolo Riddle'.

"Not King, then?" Ron asked out loud finally, with a curious glance at the throne that could easily poke out his eyes and pierce through his body in one clean swipe.

Lord Sopespian's face soured and his lips settled into a thin line. He settled back into his throne as Harry and Ron looked on wearily.

" _That_ ," he emphasized, "is what I'm hoping you will help me with."

Harry and Ron shuffled their feet uncomfortably. Their guts immediately told them that they were not going to like what came next.

"I need your help in overthrowing those blasted Narnians off the throne," Sopespian spat with venom.

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Silence hung heavily in the air.

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"...Come again mate?" Ron asked, his tone strung with incredulity and confusion.

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Harry merely shook his head with disbelief. _Why him?_

* * *

The sound of heavy hooves clicking on the gravel path echoed through the night and the Narnian guards stood more alert as the noise grew closer in distance to the castle.

"Open the gates!" Edmund bellowed from his steed as they stormed up to the castle.

"It's the King! Hurry!" The night shift guards stumbled and hurried to open the iron gates in time.

Hermione clung onto Edmund, fearing the thought of falling off the horse as Edmund showed no signs of slowing down. For a brief moment, she thought that he would storm the castle with the horse at the momentum he was keen on keeping. But as quick as the thought came, it went, because Edmund tugged at the reigns sharply, causing the horse to rear back on its hinds. She bit back a yelp as she clutched onto his shoulders for support, gravity threatened to drag her to the ground.

Edmund tensed under her grip, momentarily caught off guard by the anger that pumped through his veins before he reached back and placed a steady hand on her back. As though they weren't already pressed up against each other enough, his actions brought her plush against his back, where once again, he could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she buried her face into his back. Breathing heavily, he eased the horse back down. Lucy's horse, that had obediently followed and kept up with Edmund's pace, came to a much more graceful halt behind them.

At once, the guards were upon them, showering their King with whatever task he needed attending to. Although, the sight of Peter Kader tied up caused them to approach the situation with caution.

"Your Majesty?" A centaur came forwards, eyeing the fallen Captain tied to a horse that was well known to be Queen Lucy's.

"Take him to the dungeons," Edmund ordered as he dismounted smoothly.

"But ... Sire!" A guard protested, eyeing the medals of valor that hung proudly on Peter's decorated jacket.

Edmund stared at the man questioningly. The guards immediately stilled. They were perplexed by this sudden order but no-one dared contradict him. If the King ordered, they would do as he said. If the King ordered this Captain to the dungeons, then he must have a good reason. Though the Kingdom of Narnia was rather small in comparison to its neighboring lands, it was larger in heart. The reign of the Kings and Queens of Old and King Caspian X had been a kind but firm one to that of the Usurper of Caspian IX, Miraz, and people had come to respect all of them. They led the affairs of the kingdom with their hearts and their influence rubbed off on most of their subjects. Thus, they highly respected them in all the decisions they made for they knew they were made with careful consideration and justice ... and also the fact that the Kings and Queens were rather ferocious when they were angry.

The centaur easily hauled the unconscious man up as soon as the guard finished untying him.

"I want a guard stationed outside his cell at all times, am I understood?"

"Yes Sire," the guard and centaur agreed.

Hermione quietly dismounted, confusedly acknowledging the respectful nods the guards showed her and walked up the stairs with Reepicheep, a little bit behind Edmund who was taking rather large strides. The mouse appeared to be growing more anxious by the minute, his whiskers twitched wildly and his tail whipped along the marbled floor. Hermione felt his anxiety rub off on her. She had never felt this unsure about herself and her position since the day Ron had left her and Harry alone in the woods.

"Edmund!" A familiar voice called out from across the corridor.

Hermione snapped her head in his direction, recognizing the voice, she watched with growing dread in the pit of her stomach as Edward and Oliver approached them.

"Is that Peter?" Oliver asked Edward. Their strides grew quicker as they noticed the guards dragging in their unconscious brother.

"Hermione! What happened to Peter?" Oliver asked.

"Why is he tied up?" Edward added.

"Tied up?" Oliver repeated, his eyes drawing to the bonds that held his brother's hands behind his back. "What is going on? Unhand him, don't you know who he is?" He asked the centaur.

The centaur awkwardly looked between the Royal Knight and the King.

"I'm afraid I cannot, sir," the centaur guard said, giving respect to Oliver's rank.

"Edmund, why is Peter unconscious and tied up?" Edward questioned with rankling ire.

"That's King Edmund," Edmund replied tersely. Edward stepped back slightly with wide eyes looking as though he had been slapped. "And that man is currently a fugitive. No-one is to speak or make contact with him unless specifically given permission by myself, Caspian or my siblings. Am I understood?"

Oliver and Edward stared at Edmund with disbelief etched on their faces. The guards quickly regained their traction when Edmund shot them a raised eyebrow, silently asking them why they were still standing around. As the guards disappeared around the corner with Peter, and Edmund and Reepicheep headed in the direction of the Northern Wing; Oliver and Edward turned to Hermione.

"Hermione, please, there must be some mistake, why does the King think that Peter is a fugitive?" Oliver asked.

"I-" Hermione stuttered, wringing her hands together, the pit at the bottom of her stomach deepened into a bottomless pit as her loyalty tore in half, "I don't- I mean-"

"Miss Granger!" Edmund's sharp voice carried through the silent corridor.

Hermione snapped straight at the authoritative tone in his voice. For a brief moment, she felt like she was back at school, caught by a teacher while up to no good with Harry and Ron; and then anger riled up in her. It was not her fault. He was making her choose between the people who gave her a home and him. It was unfair and shouldn't really be a choice and yet they both knew what her decision would be.

"I need to go," she whispered with guilt, unable to meet their eyes.

Spinning tightly on her heels, she walked towards Edmund with a pinched face.

"You called?" she asked him rigidly.

Edmund narrowed his eyes at her with warning but refrained from rising to the bait she was clearly dangling front of him.

"We need to find Peter," was his equally stiff response.

With a tight, reluctant nod, she followed him; forcing herself not to look back at the Kaders out of shame and cowardice for the likely betrayal she would see on their faces.

* * *

Edmund stopped in front of two large wooden doors, nodding cordially at the guards who saluted him. Hermione shuffled her feet behind on him, as she eyed the intimidating looking palace guards stationed at the door. They reminded Hermione of the red guards stationed at Buckingham Palace, never once breaking their expressions, even when her dad cracked his terrible jokes while she and her mother laughed.

Edmund gave three customary loud knocks on the door before he threw the door open and strode in with a purpose.

"Pete-Dear Aslan!" Edmund exclaimed.

Hermione frowned, noticing the slight quirk of the lips of the guards as she peered over Edmund's tall, broad shoulder to see a partly undressed High King. Blushing to the roots of her hair, she quickly stepped back and allowed Peter some privacy.

"Dammit Edmund! Have you never heard of waiting for a response?"

"Well, I wasn't expecting to find you with anyone at this time of night, that's for sure!" Edmund responded.

Hermione frowned. She had been under the impression that King Peter had been courting Princess Cassiopeia.

"Cassie, what on earth are you doing here?" he asked the other apparent occupant of the room.

Hermione shook her head with disbelief and hurriedly found herself scurrying out of the way as Edmund stumbled backward. The door slammed shut and Peter stood in front of it, protectively, as he tied up the belt on his banyan robe.

"Edmund," Peter said gravely, "King Nain and Queen Imani have been kidnapped."

The guards broke their facade and looked on with wide eyes. Hermione frowned, catching Edmund's eye, his jaw tightened as he wondered the same thing - was this connected to Lucy's abduction? It could not all just be one big coincidence.

"What's Cassie doing here then?"

"She managed to escape and I was asking her for details," Peter briefed.

"Half naked?" Edmund asked skeptically and condescendingly.

Peter glared at Edmund, "No, she woke me up completely hysterical, and in a matter of perspective, putting on a shirt wasn't at the forefront of my mind. Miss Granger, Reep," Peter greeted offhandedly. "Now, tell me why the three of you are barging into my quarters at this time of night."

The three companions exchanged glances.

"Well?" Peter intoned, immediately catching onto the fact that something terrible had happened.

"Lucy and Dagger have been kidnapped!" Hermione exclaimed, her anxiety bubbling over an overfilled cauldron of tension.

Peter rounded his eyes on Hermione, cold ice stole into his blue eyes.

"What do you mean kidnapped?"

"I really don't think that you require the Oxford English Dictionary definition of kidnapped, Peter. It is as it sounds. Some crazy old witch did some voodoo magic and quite literally disappeared in front of our eyes with Lu and Dagger," Edmund replied acerbically.

"Witch?" Peter parroted, the tension rolled off his body in waves.

Edmund finally looked uneasy, clearly, no one liked to anger the High King, "Yes, Peter. I don't know what's going on in Narnia, but I have a feeling that our new prisoner will be able to give us more answers since he was the one who had the original plan to meet this witch in person."

It took a second for Peter to catch onto who they were talking about.

"Ethan," Peter called to the tall, blond guard.

"Sire?" The man asked.

"Please fetch Caspian and Susan. I think they will want to be informed." The guard nodded and went on his way towards the South Wing. "And I better go tell Cass," Peter muttered, stepping away.

Edmund sighed deeply as Peter disappeared behind the doors.

"Reep, round together the troops will you?" Edmund asked his Knight tiredly.

"Certainly Sire," Reepicheep bowed lowly before he scampered up the curtains and into a small hole in the ceiling.

Running a hand through his wind-tousled hair, Edmund stepped out through the small alcove opposite Peter's bedroom and out onto a balcony. Suddenly finding herself standing alone in the dark corridor and well aware of the unnerving stares of the remaining guards, Hermione slowly followed Edmund. The biting wind caressed her cheeks and she shivered, pulling her robes tighter around her body as she mirrored Edmund's stance, leaning her elbows on the marble ledge, making sure to put distance between them. A few moments of silence passed between them before Edmund let out a small snort of derision.

"I can't even wrap my head around this," he whispered, almost too quiet to hear.

Hermione wondered if he meant for her to overhear, whether he was talking about them or was just lamenting on the events of the night. As his presence and proximity became more distance with every breath they drew, she sought for clarity in her cloudy thoughts. Eventually, her never-ending curiosity won over.

"Around what?" She asked softly.

His hauntingly grey eyes rose to meet hers and she found herself ensnared in his gaze. She couldn't put her finger on the emotions that were brewing in the storm that were his eyes, but she couldn't tear her gaze away from him.

"I don't even know anymore, I mean, magic? Witches? I thought it was all done with after Aslan killed the White Witch and now it's all just coming back like one reoccurring nightmare," Edmund whispered and his velvety voice carried through the night with the wind.

She felt slightly embarrassed, her cheeks flamed red, for assuming that he had been talking about them. But then he looked at her, as though he was staring into her soul and the emotion in his eyes became even more unclear and she wasn't so sure anymore. Hermione's eyes fluttered, mimicking the stutter of her heart, this was what she had vowed to avoid and look at her, not even several hours later, letting down her guard for him. Why was it that he could affect her so? What was it about him that made it so damn easy to throw down her walls, to forget everything around them and be lost in their own world?

"We'll find them," she said with quiet conviction, without breaking eye contact. She wasn't sure if she could look away even if she wanted to.

"Yes, we will," he replied steadily, placing his hand on top of hers, finally ending their teasing game of keeping distance. He caressed her knuckles, the smooth skin of her hand seemed to soothe him in some strange way. And she watched, perplexed and enraptured as the tension left his body as though someone had turned on a pipe and let out the pressure. Hermione's heart constricted and, if possible, her breath quickened.

Hermione stomped down a shiver that rose within her at the firmness in his tone. Edmund Pevensie was masculinity personified; from his strong, powerful, and what she assumed to be a very muscular body to his unfairly handsome face and baritone voice. She felt pathetic, but at the same time, felt the need to justify her schoolgirl-like reactions. She doubted that any woman would be able to withstand his charm after all wasn't it every little girl's dream to fall in love with a prince? Hermione flinched in panic as she acknowledged the fleeting thought.

Flushing, she turned her gaze away, reminding herself once more of the promise she had made. Edmund immediately recognised the change in her and felt his frustration rise. And she knew that he was frustrated with her. She couldn't really blame him, she wasn't being fair on either of them.

"Edmund, I can't- we can't-"

"And why not?" He asked her, pinning her down with an unavoidable stare.

She stared at him, open-mouthed, unable to form a response, not having expected the need to explain herself. Instead, she attempted to draw her hand away from him. Except, he responded by gripping her hand tighter, not hard enough to cause her hurt, but enough to keep her in place. Then, he stepped closer, naturally, she took a step back; they continued this dance until she found herself backed into the corner of the balcony, her back pressed against the half wall.

"So, King Peter and Princess Cassiopeia are an item huh?" She muttered after a moment of tense silence, looking anywhere but at him, a weak attempt at deflection.

Edmund smirked devilishly, "is that the best you can do?" one of his hands teasingly found her waist.

Hermione looked up at him with a scowl and then belatedly realized that she had fallen right into his trap.

"Now," Edmund sent her a dark promising look that set her insides on fire and he cupped her face with the hand that was not pinning her lower half against him.

She was not ignorant, she knew how to recognize desire and at the moment Edmund was sending ounces of it in her direction. She felt powerful, knowing that she somehow was desirable to this man, a King, who could have any woman in his Kingdom and beyond and yet was fixated with her and at the same time, she felt terrible. She was a terrible, terrible person because she wanted this and whilst she may have stopped him getting closer earlier on that night, she didn't think she had the strength to do so again.

"Give me a good reason for why you keep pushing me away and think that we can't be together and I will let you go," he muttered.

"Edmund," she whispered, closing her eyes as he kept his penetrating gaze on her. "We can't," she whispered feebly.

"Why?" He pressed.

"Because..." she paused as shuddered as he leaned closer and closer until forehead touched hers and that was her last straw.

With a deep growl, she shoved him away. Taken by surprise, Edmund stumbled back.

"Because! Because you confuse me, because I forget where I am when you're around me, because I can't think when you're too close, because I left someone behind who loved every fibre of me and I feel so guilty so damn guilty that I forget about them when I'm around you and because, ... because I desire you and it terrifies me because I'm falling harder than I've ever done before and I don't know how to cope with that!" She screamed.

Edmund stood frozen, startled by her admission. He watched as she heaved for breaths, her eyes were wide and filled with tears and Edmund quickly recognized the start of a panic attack. Immediately he was in front of her, holding her in his arms as she grasped for some semblance of normality, and he provided her the reassurance that she was still tethered to reality.

"Hermione," he whispered, resting his chin on top of her head, "it's okay, I've got you."

Her forehead rested against his shoulder as she calmed herself down with deep breaths, the emotions blooming inside her were overwhelming. For the first time, Edmund chose not to speak but to provide comfort and so he remained silent, running his hand up and down her back in a soothing motion. In doing so, he had the time to think about what her words meant. She said she was falling for him, harder than ever before. Edmund had never felt his heart weigh as light as it did in that moment. He felt euphoric and victorious, it was a thrill that no other triumphant battle had ever brought to him and when she was ready to hear it, he would tell her how he felt. A sliver of fear remained in him at her possibly rejecting him again because of the hurricane of emotions he wrought in her, but he hoped that she would choose to be strong enough to venture out and discover something extraordinary.

"Let's go," Peter's jarring voice cut through the charged air.

Edmund and Hermione sprang apart looking like kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Edmund forced down the disappointed groan that made it's way up his throat. He looked down at Hermione, who looked embarrassed, and kept her gaze anywhere but at him.

"Yes, let's go," he growled, pushing past his brother who looked torn between amusement and surprise.

Edmund heard Cassiopeia apologizing quietly to Hermione behind him for their interruption and suddenly wished for the ground to swallow him up. Damn Peter and his terrible timing.

* * *

"You do see the flaw in your idea, do you not?" Harry asked after several moments of uncomfortable silence.

Lord Sopespian kinked an eyebrow up at him, motioning for him to continue while Ron merely gaped at Harry's acceptance of the insanity surrounding them.

"You know, just merely the small, tiny, inconsequential fact that Narnia is a kingdom that is guarded by several armies and the castle is practically a fortress from what I hear," Harry deadpanned. Ron blinked in relief.

Sopespian stared at Harry with calculating eyes that radiated annoyance, it was so eerily reminiscent to that of Voldemort, that Harry had to look away. A small fear aroused in him over the thought of the man being a Legilimens, but having felt no physical intrusion on his mind, Harry brushed that idea away.

"That is why I secured some insurance," the Lord announced with a sinister smile, his eyes no longer on Harry.

Harry and Ron turned around at the sound of clanking chains and watched as another prisoner was brought in. It was a young girl. She looked about their age, though it was difficult to tell as her long blonde hair covered most of her face. She was staring at something on the ground and that was when both wizards took notice of the muzzled wolf that was trailing beside the girl at a pace so slow that Ron was convinced the animal was injured.

And then, she looked up. Her golden tresses fell back like curtains being drawn and bright electric blue irises shone through the shadows cast on her face. Her chin tilted with defiance and pride while her poise screamed of regality. In that instant, Ron knew that Lord Sopespian had just played the best attack on a chessboard that currently had the opposition in 'check'. There was no doubt in either of their minds, that they were gazing at a Queen; all that was missing on her person was a crown but she clearly didn't need one to express her presence.

They watched with dim surprise as the uninhibited fear in her eyes died like a flame and morphed into something of surprise and skepticism as she recognized their host.

"You," she asserted.

One word uttered through her lips painted the stark difference between the casual regency she exuded as opposed to what Lord Sopespian had failed to achieve throughout their entire encounter. Instinctively, Harry and Ron stood just that tiny bit straighter; they did not fail to notice the subtle change in the stance of the vampires around them. Still, if Harry wasn't so blinded by her allure, he would have caught onto the hint of ridicule in her tone.

"Ah, she remembers," Lord Sopespian mocked patronizingly.

"Well yes, quite hard to forget the face of a man who had the audacity to charge at Aslan. Though I must know, how ever did you manage to survive the onslaught of the river god?" She now stood to the left of both Harry and Ron.

Ron recoiled with surprise as he felt the wolf brush up against him. It did not escape anyone's notice that the Queen no longer had to be dragged into the room. Clearly, she did not see Lord Sopespian as a threat and everyone was aware of it.

Lord Sopespian snarled with outrage as he strode towards her in three quick steps and struck her across the face. A satisfied smile settled on his face as a delicate gasp escaped her lips as her head swung violently to the right at the force of his slap.

"Hey!" Harry argued stepping forwards and pushed the Lord away.

As the man stumbled back, Harry struggled against the hands that suddenly gripped his arms. Before he knew it, manacles appeared around his wrists, preventing him from striking out again.

"I see," Lord Sopespian muttered, sounding as though he was disappointed in Harry. "I had hoped that this meeting would go differently Mr. Potter, but it is clear to me that you do not see eye to eye with me. No matter. I'm sure I will be able to _bring you around_ ," the steely glint in his eye held a promise that Harry did not want to see come to light.

"Take them away," he waved his hand, "and put that mutt in a cell with the rest of the vermin."

Harry and Ron struggled against their captors as they were dragged away while Lucy merely walked with her head held high as though she was being guided by her own army of guards.

Life could not have turned out more mysterious or strange for Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.

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* * *

 **A.N./** My, can writer's block be a big pain in the arse!

Apologies to all those who have been waiting patiently for another update from me. I suppose that's the problem when you don't already have upcoming chapters written in advance. A slightly shorter chapter than usual this time, but quality over quantity is what I hope I have achieved here. I have managed to pump out all the events that needed to happen in this chapter for the story to continue progressing so I am pleased with where I signed off on Chapter 15.

So, our antagonist has been introduced. Did any of you suspect that it would be Sopespian, or has my plot only just started to make a bit more sense to you all? Haha! I'm having so much fun with this story, as I finish writing this chapter I marvel at how easily it came out onto the page. Lucy sort of took a mind of her own as I was writing her, I hope you all like her characterisation. Believe it or not, she was the one who I've been struggling to write for months! I, for some reason, just couldn't picture her in my head and therefore her words and actions became impossible to write and almost fake when I tried to imitate it. And without her, this chapter would be incomplete. Thankfully, I had a burst of inspiration today and it was as though Lucy just clicked in my mind and the flow of writing became easier than it had been for months. It's difficult when you have so many characters to play with to give them all relevant amounts of page time without forcing them to be in scenes for the sake of it. For the moment I am happy with where all my characters are in terms of plot and development.

Also, I do have a partner in mind for Lucy but I want to hear your thoughts, do you want to see her with Ron or with Harry. It will be interesting to hear what you think, given the knowledge you have so far of the characters in this world. More Harry, Ron & Lucy interaction in the dungeons is on its way. Things have only just begun.

I know where I want this story to end, have always known since the day that I started writing it; but over the last fifteen chapters, I have fallen in love with the characters and the world that I have created. So I think, once I've completed this story, I will follow up with a collection on one-shots so you get further snippets into their lives. But for now, this story is nowhere near from being completed, so I best get back to it!

A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed, subscribed and liked this story over the past few months. You gave me the necessary push to keep coming back to this chapter and editing it with small ounces of inspiration every time. I hope you haven't given up on the story and have returned to support me and Moments in Time!

Thanks to: **0ttoke, lottiemoreland13, Guest #1, Goldenpot, jojojotrunks, NeverlandFunhouse, whysosiriusumbridge, QueenVulca, Guest #2, HestiaForever, Victoria, Says-the-Slytherin, Sameen Hadiya, craaazyaboutMalfoy, OOANDISAOO, AliceinWonderland13, SeaweedBrain, twztdwildcat** and a _**SPECIAL**_ thanks to **Parsi** who made the effort to reach out to me via PM to encourage me to keep writing!

P.S. Who went to see Beauty and the Beast? I've seen it twice and it was amazing!

P.P.S. If anyone is willing to be a Beta for this story, please get in touch. I try my best to edit and check my chapters for spelling and grammar but it would be great to have a second pair of eyes to double check my work. Even still, I know that there is still some scope for improvement in the way that I phrase things sometimes and I would love to get advice on how I can structure my sentences better. PM me if you are interested!

Sending my love to you all for your support, (.;) xx


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